


Miscalculation

by lepus



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, but not beverly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lepus/pseuds/lepus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham stopped kissing him to take a breath and Hannibal felt himself also sucking air into his lungs, he hadn't realized he'd stopped breathing to kiss Will back.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Complete fix-it-fic, except fixing things in Hannibal means Will slowly discovering everything is terrible. Starts somewhere mid season one, pretends encephalitis didn't happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miscalculation

The last time he had miscalculated this badly, Hannibal reflected, when when he had used a translation of a French recipe instead of finding the original. The result had been a rather subpar Soupe à l’Oignon Gratinée, not a terrible one but really, with the effort it had taken to get the bone marrow he had wanted a perfect meal. Translations were alway tenuous, so much nuance could be lost.

Will Graham stopped kissing him to take a breath and Hannibal felt himself also sucking air into his lungs, he hadn't realized he'd stopped breathing to kiss Will back. Autopilot, that's what must be happening here, he realized at Will looked back at him through his long lashes and closed his eyes, moving closer for another kiss. I am going on autopilot. His arms encircled Will and he let the man push him against the wall. My body is acting to it's own accord. I am not in control of my actions. I am letting myself fall to sensation and animal desire-

Will pulled back suddenly and Hannibal leaned forward after him. "Hannibal." Will said, his voice rougher, raw. "Hannibal, are you, I don't know what came over me, are you-" but Hannibal was already reaching for him again, missing the touch and the taste and already decided, even if this was never his plan, Will's body was never something he had desired like this, not blood flowing and moving towards and away like the tide, but if that was what his body wanted, and he was already running his hands down Will's back trying to find the balance between holding the man in his hands while letting there be enough room for Will to unbutton his shirt, and he had never been one to deny his needs.

He gasped as Will kissed his neck and bit at the tendons. He'd never been one to deny his needs for long. 

***  
Something was cooking, and it smelt wonderful. Will let the smell lift him out of the warm haze of sleep, it was the only thing that could be worth leaving the soft comfort of this glourius bed for. The food even sounded good, sausages perhaps sizzling on the stove. And coffee, he could smell coffee too. How wonderful, this was such a nice dream.

Will opened his eyes and was struck suddenly by how he was not in a dream. Because this was Hannibal’s bed, and that was Hannibal’s cooking, and oh god he was going to curl up and die. Because last night Hannibal had cooked for him, like the man did for probably anybody, anybody at all that wandered in and he didn't actively dislike, and hell he probably cooked for those people too with so he could at least get something out of spending time with them. And they had a nice meal, and then Hannibal had smiled at him as they walked to the door and put his hand on his arm and, well, that was the last straw. Because in Will's life he didn't have people who touched him because they were his friend, because they cared. They touched him to gauge a reaction, or to prove they were brave like a child running their hands through a candle flame. People didn't touch him often. But Hannibal cooked for him, looked at him, and touched him, and Will was so grateful. And that gratitude had been rolling through his body for months now, and last night it had bubble up and became something more. He hadn’t said anything about this, Will realized as he rolled into a tighter ball on Hannibal’s soft bed. No, he didn't use his words or tried to tentatively smile back and causley return the touch. No, he'd just jumped the man.

"Will?"

Will froze. He hadn't heard Hannibal come in, but now he could feel the man's hand on his back. He stayed still, not sure what to do. Stay? Apologise? Thank him for the oral sex? What would a normal person do?

"Will?"

Probably not lie still. Will uncurled and rolled over, staring up at Hannibal who washow was leaning over him. He was wearing his robe, which made Will hyper aware that he was naked under the duvet. Hannibal looked down at him, with, what emotion was that?

Panicking wasn't going to get him anywhere, Will swallowed and noticed that Hannibals eyes moved to his throat. There was a quick flash of desire there, and suddenly this was easier. "I'd kiss you good morning." he said quietly. "But you shouldn't have to taste anything as sour as my breath."

Hannibals mouth quirked and Will's heart slowed a bit, he'd guessed right. 

***

At the table, across from Hannibal, listening to the man expound on all the ingredients, felt familiar. So was Hannibal in his robe, the only thing that was missing was the feeling of panic ebbing away. When he was here in the early morning it was because something had gone wrong, terribly terribly wrong and Hannibal was going to help him work through it. But today there was no problem, he hadn't driven out here in a haze of worry or stress. He looked at Hannibal and smiled a purely happy smile, everything was right for once.

Hannibal smiled back, but then dropped his gaze back to the sausage, locally sourced from an organic butcher who had castrated the hog a month before slaughtering for a sweeter tasting meat. "We probably should speak of this change to our relationship." Hannibal said, more to the sausage then to Will.

"Must we?" Will said. "I mean, yes of course, we are going to have to talk about it, but right now I'm enjoying this lovely breakfast," Hannibal’s mouth moved up a bit, he always seemed so happy that people enjoyed his cooking, "and maybe we could talk after eating?"

"We could, but I don't think the conversation will sour the meal." Hannibal picked up his knife, slicing his sausage into neat bites. "I have to say your affections last night caught me unaware."

 

Will could feel his face heating in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I realize the first step should be a declaration, not shoving the object of your desire against a wall."

"And yet you let take passion take control, gave into a very base desire. I am not used to being subject to anything so primale." Hannibal practically growled that last word, and his voice went down Will's spine, stopping between his legs. "However you feel about your actions they were appreciated, if they hadn't been you would have known quickly and I am certain stopped. You did stop last night, briefly, if you recall, to make sure your actions were being appropriately reciprocated."

Will tried to remember the blur of last night, his hands on Hannibals shirt and trying to decide between kissing and breathing. 

"And they were, which I hope I communicated in my own wordless fashion."

Hannibal had let Will manhandle him into his bedroom, a room Will only knew the location of because Hannibal, alway fussy about his clothes, had once wandered in to there to change his shirt before they went out to a crime scene. Will, wrapped up in the description he was giving of the victim, had followed him into the bedroom before realizing this was perhaps inappropriate. He'd frozen then a step over the doorway, pausing mid sentence. Hannibal had glanced up from his closet and motioned for Will to continue. The moment and the awkwardness had passed.

Last night Will hadn't felt awkward or paniced, just glad he knew the way as he was pushing and pulling Hannibal into the bedroom. By the time he'd gotten the man into the room he and Hannibal had stripped, delicious skin rubbing against skin, warmth and heat. He'd been guiding Hannibal towards the bed, no real plan in mind other than to get the tall lean man horizontal so he could run his hands over every inch. But as they approached the bed Hannibal twisted them somehow, Will felt the the bed with the backs of his legs and fell down, pulling Hannibal with him. Hannibal landed over him, catching himself on his elbows and closing the last few inches to kiss Will's mouth. He pulled back then, and Will tried to sit up to follow but Hannibal was pulling back, one large hand on Wills chest pushing him down. Will let himself fall back against the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He didn't look down as he felt Hannibal's breath against his cock, the first slow lick. He felt that if he looked it all might disappear. Then the mouth engulfed him, and he couldn't not look, needing to see what his body was screaming about. He looked down at his dick disappearing into Hannibals mouth and moaned and came.

"Yes." Will swallowed. "I think you managed to impress that upon me."

 

"Excellent, but now we must communicate with words." Hannibal belied his own statement and took a bite of his breakfast before continuing, Will couldn't fault him for taking a moments respite from such a tension riddled conversation. "Will, may I ask what are your intentions towards me?"

Will let out a small laugh and ran a hand over his face, Hannibal of course asked a difficult question. "Last night I would have said my intentions went no further than wanting to be closer to you . But beyond that? I'm afraid I can't see into the future, I have no idea what I want from you beyond these rather base desires."

Hannibal nodded. "Then that shall be our starting point. Will, I too find myself with these base desires, something I was perhaps dishonest to myself about before last night." Hannibal looked almost embarrassed. "I am used to distancing myself from people in my life professionally, apparently this practice has carried over to my more personal relationships. Will, I would like to continue seeing you in this way, would you find that amicable?"

Will blinked away Hannibals more polished prose and tried to concentrate at the meat of it. "If you mean would I like to date-" Hannibal made slightly disgusted face. "Not fond of the word?" Will guessed.

"I am sorry, it just has such teenage implications, as if we are going to see a movie and neck in the car." Hannibal said and Will could have laughed at Hannibals pronunciation of 'neck', he said it like the word offended him on a deeply personal level. "I mean that perhaps in addition to our dinners and conversations we could perhaps engage in activities like lasts nights."

"I believe I would be open to that." Will said. "Would you like to plan for these activities or let our primal urges guide the way?"

Hannibal was smiling at him now, warm and kind. "There is no reason the primal urges can't be planned for."

***

"Will, glad you could make it." Jack said as he collected Will from the officers who were guarding the apartment complex's street entrance.

"Your message didn't give me much information." Will said as he followed Jack down the narrow hallway. The building was old, Will estimated early 1920's, and had been grandfathered through several building regulations. Exposed pipes crossed the ceiling, fire extinguishers were bolted to the floor, and the whole place felt like it was waiting to fall down.

"We don't have much to go on here." Jack said as he pushed a door open with the back of his hand. "In fact the reason I wanted you to come down is to help me figure out if there's been a murder at all."

Will stepped into the room. There was a dead man lying in a pool of blood. In front of him was a women sans half a head, a gun on the floor where it would have fallen from her hand. THe missing half of her head was splattered against the wall. Will turned and gave Jack a look.

"Let me rephrase that." Jack said. "We know there's been a murder, and from this scene," he nodded towards the bodies "it appears we have the perpetrator. But it seems a bit too...neat."

"Last time I got called out to a suicide the, is victim the right term for someone who shots themselves?" Zeller asked Price who was coming out of the bathroom. Price considered for a moment, then nodded. "Right, the victim missed enough of his brain that he flailed around for about two minutes. There was blood on nearly every surface of the room, plus more gun shots because he kept trying."

"First suicide I saw he missed his head entirely." Beverly added from where she was kneeling on the ground. "Blew off a bit of his shoulder. Actually managed to decide that guns weren't for him and swallowed a bottle of Xanax, which didn't kill him but kept him immobile until he bleed out."

Will found himself looking at the nice, neat top of the women's head lying where it fell behind the body. "I guess you guys don't often see one like this?" he asked, hitching up his pants as he squatted down to get a better look.

"No, this is like a childrens illustration of what a suicide would look like." Price said. "You know what I meant." he added defensively as Beverly and Zeller shot him the same look. "It's-"

"A picture." Will said softly from where he was scrutinizing the pieces of skull.

Jack quietly made his way to the door, the rest of the team following him out. Will barely heard them leave, he was already stepping back away from what was there and to what had been, a few hours ago, when the killer had began.

The room was clean, very clean actually for such a squalid..."I prepared the room ahead of time, setting up this background for my art." It would have taken so much time, these rooms would have had a layer of grime, but the only mess here was the bodies themselves. "It was an place of order, even the bodies respect that, perfect representation of suicide and death. I place my victims in this room with the utmost care." That much was obvious to even the casual observer. "They were immobile when I brought them, no signs of struggle." He was going to have Jack run a toxicology test. “This isn't what you would expect to find, it's what you wished you found, in the past, last time you hit a crime scene. You're trying to show the world how it's done, how it should be. This is my design."

Will snapped back. In his mind he had been holding a gun to the woman's head, she was unconscious and helpless, it like holding a gun to a sleeper. He was working on the angle, trying to get that perfect shot where the skull cap would detach just so. The man had been easier, hit a few major arteries and the blood would pool out. He knew where the hole was going to be but hadn't shot him yet, he needed to kill the two within the same 60 seconds for it to be perfect.

Will put his face in his hands and said "Jack." The man was at his side in an instance, he must have been waiting outside the door. "One murderer, he brought them here unconscious, drugged. He probably has no connection to these people, he just wanted to create this," Will waved his hand at the room, "and he needed a male and a female. Either he worked in law enforcement or he saw a lot of crime scenes, he wanted one that would make sense to him." Will pointed at the skull cap. "He had to have practiced to get that one right. Try and find a pile of fake skulls shot apart, or animals skulls shot close range with that caliber bullets." Will glanced around one more time. "The murderer spent a significant amount of time here setting the stage, someone in the building might know him. Or her."

Jack nodded."We'll start interviewing the residents, do you want to be present?"

Will shook his head. "I want to finish teaching my classes, I'll come by the lab this afternoon." He didn't want to do even that truth be told. The satisfaction of the killer itched at the back of his brain. "Jack, I should warn you, there's going to be more. Keep an eye out for perfect crime scenes." There was something else huddled, hidden behind the killers anger and frustration. Will wasn't sure what. He was tired to his bones of holding that gun though, it had taken so much time to set up, calculating the way the skull would fly centimeter by-  
"I've got to go." Will said a little louder than necessary.

***  
"Will, come in." Hannibal said with his normal, warm, greeting smile. It was a good smile he felt, he'd practiced it in front of a mirror for hours once. It had belonged to a particularly wonderful shoe shop keeper whose clients had always seemed to light up when he beckoned them into his shop. Hannibal had bought five pairs of serviceable shoes from him to make sure he had the smile memorized.

Will gave him a rather wan smile back, he really should practice, Hannibal thought for a moment, then realized that Will was upset, and removed his own to a more neutral face. Much easier to maintain. "What's wrong?"

Will leaned into him as he entered his office, a hand brushing across Hannibals forearm as if trying to remind himself Hannibal was real. "Today someone set up the perfect murder suicide."

"I assume you don't mean the murderer half of the pair?" Hannibal said as he followed Will. The man sunk into his patient chair, Hannibal took the one opposite.

"No, both halves were the sad victims of a killer who has been let down by the messiness of real life crime." Will closed his eyes for a moment. "Someone dragged two people, Linda Homestead and Terry Wogan, both of whom have led nearly blameless lives and have no connection, into a very clean apartment and killed them. Quite expertly it turns out, anyone who ran across it would instantly recognize the scene as an angry women shooting a man, then herself. Except life isn't clean enough, everyone on the team walked in and it was too perfect, enough that it set them on edge to get me."

Hannibal frowned a bit. "You said this murder was skilled enough to set up the perfect scene, do you think they would have been skilled enough to make a scene that would have fooled you?"

Will leaned his head back, exposing the lines of his neck as he thought. Hannibal leaned forward a bit, enjoying the unconscious gesture of surrender.

Will spoke slowly, like he was turning the thoughts over in his mind as he said them. "No, or maybe yes, he could, it would take less effort. But he wouldn't. That's not what he wants, everything was so clean. I don't think this killer is killing for fun, or revenge, or anything out of the FBI’s normal box of motives. He's killing purely to create these little macabre tableau’s, that is the purpose and the end of his design."

Hannibal thought about that for a moment. "Truly a shame then," he said is a casual, off the cuff voice. "That his chosen artistic material is dead bodies, and not watercolors."

Will chuckled a bit and lowered his head. "If only. My life would be much simpler if, instead of trying to understand the mind of killers, I could be an art critic."

"I think you would find, dear Will, that one mind is not so different than another."

Will blushed every so lightly at the term of endearment, and Hannibal decided now was the time to segway into another topic. "Will, I know you dislike the therapy community at large." Will's body stiffened as Hannibal talked, he got out of his chair and began to pace. "But I hope our friendship has done something to raise the value of my chosen profession in your eyes."

Will stopped his pacing and gave Hannibal a hard look. "My relationship with you Dr. Lecter has everything to do with who you are and not what you are."

Hannibal considered that. "Very true. But I must admit, this inbetween area we have occupied, a space of friendship with my occasion psychological insights, can not survive a more intense relationship." He stood up here, a bit excited. This was a new leverage he could apply. He strode across the room and was suddenly in Will’s personal space, taking the man's hands in his. He started down at them, worn and scarred. "Will, I feel that this has become a safe space for you, this space with me." He looked Will in the eyes. "No relationship is perfect, and try as we might I need to know, need, that you have another safe place.” He raised Will's hands to his lips and kissed the palms. Wills hand cupped his cheek, then pulled Hannibal down to kiss him. It wasn't like the night before, Hannibal reflected as the kiss went on. This kiss was slow and exploratory, he did his best to return the gentle swipe of the Will's tongue over his lips, finally realizing he was following Will again and the man slowly moved them toward his settee. He opened his eyes and saw through the dimming window that at least ten minutes had passed, and all he had to show for it was a well kissed Will smiling up at him.

"Are you saying you want me to see another therapist?" Will said in a soft, teasing voice.

"Is that what I was saying?" Hannibal asked. "It really could have been anything at all."

"That was it," and Will was a relaxed and warm weight against his side. "And if that's what you need me to do I will. I am assuming since you brought it up you already have one in mind?"

"Yes, my therapist has agreed to take you on. Of course you are welcome to find your own-"

"The idea of spending my time interviewing people to look into my head gives me hives." Will said firmly. "Besides" he added turning his face to smile at Hannibal. "I trust you."

"And I you." Hannibal said with a smile and moved in to kiss Will again.

***

"Jack isn't happy." Alana said to Will as he opened his door to find her on the stoop. "Winston! Who's a good dog?" she added as she bent down to pet the dog that beamed up at her.

"Has there been another murder?" Will asked. It was an overcast morning, the light soft and and the air cool. He was congratulating himself on having made it home before Alana came to visit, no need to explain where he’d been the night before.

"No, not yet, but he doesn't need a new murder to be unhappy. One is enough, this murder is getting to him."

"Any reason why?" Winston turned and went into the house, Alana then Will following. "Also, coffee or tea?"

"Do you have a tea pot?"

"Yes."

"Then tea. I like to listen to the pot whistle."

Will smiled. "You remind me of Hannibal sometimes. He would say that the sound of the teapot is an integral part of enjoying your drink, and should be savored as much as a good blend."

Alana's lips quirked a bit. "Did he make you tea recently?"

"No." Will said, suddenly sharply coming back to himself. He hadn't even realized he'd been gone. "That's just what I'd think he'd say."

"Oh." said Alana, picking up on Will's slight confusion. "Well, while I'm enjoying the sounds of tea I should tell you about Jack. He's mad because this killer is picking victims so randomly."

Will nodded. "It's going to make it that much harder to find him, but on the bright side the murders are going to be very easy to attach to the killer."

"That's not much of a bright side." Alana sat at Will’s table as he busied himself with heating water and finding clean mugs. She shifted around a stack of folders and copies of Fishing Today until there was room for two.

"No, it is. We'll have an easy time connecting the murders to each other, and the more there is the bigger picture we'll have. There will be a pattern, we just don't have enough pieces to see it yet."

The teapot whistled and Will turned to pour Alana a cup. She took it with a nod, and placed it on the table in front of her. She held her hands near the sides of the mug, close but not touching, letting as much warmth touch her hands without suffering a burn. "You're saying, " she said, startling Will out of his thoughts, "that the best hope we have is to wait for another death."

"That or the murderer gives himself up."

Alana gave a little snort. Will turned so she wouldn't see him smile at it. "Murderers very rarely give themselves up." she said. "Also, I'm not convinced there's only one murderer."

"Any particular reason, Dr. Bloom?" Will asked, now sliding into the seat across from her with his own coffee.

"A lot of work went into setting up that room, it just seems like the sort of thing you'd do with a friend."

***  
"Hello Mr. Graham." Dr. Du Maurier was beautiful. Of course she's beautiful, Will thought, Hannibal wouldn't want to spend time surrounded by anything less than that. He was struck still by the sudden, dizzying thought, that perhaps this meant he was beautiful too.

"Please, I'm more comfortable with being called Will." He said firmly as he sat down. The room wasn't anything like Hannibal's office, it was jarring in its light and softness.

"Alright then, Will, it's a pleasure to meet you. Are you comfortable seeing me as your psychiatrist?" The bluntness of the question startled Will out of his observations and he opened his mouth, but had no answer on his tongue.

"I ask because you come to me through someone who has a great deal of influence over your life, and I do not wish to be part of the binding if what you need is your own space."

Will found his voice. "I think the hope is that you'll tether me to myself?"

Dr. Du Maurier smiled a bit at that. "Do you often feel that you're drifting away?" She leaned back as she said it and Will leaned forward.

"I am rarely grounded. My job requires me to step back from my own thoughts, sometimes it's hard to find them again."

"Are you more comfortable with your own thoughts or the thoughts of others?"

"Considering the others I invite into my skull I would prefer my own." Will found himself looking at his own folded fingers as he talked.

"Outside of your job, can you think of someone whose thoughts you'd rather have?" Dr. Du Maurier's voice didn't sound curious, or bored, it was a neutral surface he could slide along.

"Some day's I think so, but I've never met that person. There must be someone out there, with simple, uncloudy thoughts that is full of purpose and doesn't pounder every action, every interaction, instead knows what to do instinctively. I wouldn't mind being that person." Will smiled a bit. "But since a person like that is unlikely to be committing murders I don't think I'll get a chance."

Dr. Du Maurier frowned a bit. "Must you only take on the thoughts of murders? In your own time you should be able to indulge in whatever mental state you want."

"I think it's best I stay in my own head when I get the option, I don't really want to get in the habit of being other people, although I can see the appeal. In the end I'm going to be myself, and I need all the help I can get." Will swallowed nervously, "Besides, sometimes I don't have my own thoughts. There's moment, short moments, where I'm looking at a crime scene and slip back into the murderers thoughts unwanted, and I feel pride or accomplishment at the scene, and and," Will put his head in his hands."I don't want to think like that. I need my own thoughts. My own thoughts, terrible that they can be, don't look at blood with satisfaction."

Dr. Du Maurier waited for Will to look back up at her before answering. "Will, I am here to provide you with what you need to stay mentally healthy, if you need to keep your thoughts the loudest then we'll start there. From this brief conversation however I am concerned that your job isn't what's best for you."

"It isn't." Will said miserably. "But I'm what's best for it."

***  
"How hard do you think it would be to qualify for a total face transplant?" Abigail asked Alana. She was sitting in what Alana assumed was a comfortable position on Hannibal's floor, back curved into a C and chin in hands. She was staring intently into the fire while asking Alana whatever question she thought would keep her slightly off edge.

Alana felt that this was an improvement over the previous openly wary conversations they used to have. She took a sip of her lightly sparkling water, Hannibal had some sort of carbonation machine of course that let him control the carbonation, and thought about the psychological ramifications of not wanting your own face.

There wasn't any good ones.

"The nose is just cartilage, you could probably slice it all off and just put on a new one. Cheekbones and eyes I'm stuck with-"

"They can shave bone, you can change skull shape." Alana spoke quietly from her chair. "And there's plastic surgery to change your eye shape. It's very popular in Korea, women want wider eyes. I don't think that's how nose transplants work though, but I've never looked this up."

Abigail stayed silent by the fire. Then, "I guess I'd have to be in a pretty horrific accident to get my face changed, huh?"

"Yes." Alana stated simply. "Or you could save up your money, change yourself little by little."

"You'll change yourself little by little as you get older." Will said as he entered the room from the kitchen. "Plastic surgery won't be needed."

Abigail straighten her back and twisted to look at Will. "It won't be under my control then, it'll just be time and my genes and how much sun I get-"

"Your face tells a story though, of what sort of life you've lived." Will said in what Alana had quietly classified as his patient Dad voice. "You should be proud of the life you live, and what you have to show for it."

"Of course a face after plastic surgery tells a story too, just one with more secrets." Hannibal added, coming out of the kitchen behind Will. "It's past nine, Will should be taking you back now."

Abigail made a face, but didn't fight it. She stood up and then unexpected turned and gave Alana a warm smile. "I'm glad you came, Dr. Bloom." she said and then walked out after Will.

Hannibal sat down in the chair next to Alana. "She's growing more comfortable with us." He said after a moment, watching the fire. "Her lot in life is a hard one, but she bares it well."

"She was just discussing getting a new face." Alana felt compelled to point out.

Hannibal shrugged. "Is it so odd to want to do away with your past self?"

"No, but she can't." Alana said. Dimly she could hear the front door close, Will and Abigail gone from the house. Now was her chance to broach the delicate subject.

"Hannibal, there's dog hair on your vest." Alana began. Best to start with facts.

Hannibal didn't bother to glance down. "An unfortunate side effect of spending time in Wills company."

"Yes it is, but there was also a few dog hairs on your shirt when we were making dinner, and then you changed before Will brought Abigail over. Your vest was clean, until you and Will went to take care of the dishes." Hannibal said nothing. Alana pressed on, "Your kitchen is bigger than my first apartment, hardly the sort of space you'd be brushing up against someone."

Hannibal did turn now to look at her now, with the firelight flickering off his face he looked a bit too proud, all sharp lines. He spoke then, breaking the spell. "I don't suppose you'd find it believable that the man needed guidance on how to properly dry china?" and his voice was light, and his face a friendly tease again.

"You realize I have to ask, are you seeing him in any professional capacity?" Alana said, letting her voice be flat and nonjudgmental. Inside she was shaking.

"No. After I evaluated him for Jack our professional relationship ended, but I was fascinated by him. We continued in each other's orbit, until we collided." Hannibal stood up then, walking towards the bar behind them. "I am well aware this would be something I could loose my license over if not done correctly."

"Hannibal, it looks, well, hinky." Alana said. She stayed facing the fire. "I'm not going to say this never happens, but there's reasons those in positions of power aren't suppose to be in relationships with the people who come to them for help."

Somewhere in the room behind her Alana heard Hannibal give a little snort. "In all your dealings with Will, has he ever struck you as someone who comes to others for help? He was forced only into my company, the decision to stay, and to now change the nature of our friendship, was entirely his."

"But not this change is not unwelcomed by you." Alana said. She had been listening to Hannibal's voice across the room, but his next words came from behind her chair, startling her.

"It is not unwelcome when someone you feel privileged to know desires you." and his voice was above her, she could feel the slight shift as he leaned against her chair. "But it was unexpected for me. And now I have Will leaving dog hair on my suits."

Alana looked up at Hannibal now, he was looking past her into the fire. Hannibal continued, "When Will came, with his brilliant mind and dazzling empathy and his utter hatred for anyone trying to understand him, I was drawn to him, the mystery. I am still drawn to this mystery, but not as a puzzle to be solved, but as something to savor. I want him in my life, and if this is how he'll have me this is where I will be."

"Does that make you uncomfortable at all?" Alana asked, concerned in the quiet of the crackling fire. Somehow she had pictured it all wrong, but Hannibal's quiet voice was guiding her mind to a different place. It seem so unlikely that he was reacting out of a desire to keep Will in his life, but this whole situation seemed unlikely in the first place. Either way her first set of concerns had faded, there were more traditional problems now.

"Not in the least, I am more fortunate than I ever dreamed I could be." Hannibal moved then, sitting back down in his chair. "Will is someone special to me, and what we have is worth the risks." Hannibal smiled at her softly then. "It's worth the risk of losing my profession. But it is only a risk, I do not think being with a patient I only saw for one visit is really against anyones morals."

"Then why did you send him to another analyst?" Alana asked, genuinely curious. "Will mentioned to me he was seeing someone on your recommendation."

Hannibal cocked an eyebrow. "If you had enough influence over Will, wouldn't you use it to help him?"

Alana laughed then, tension leaving her body with the sound. Hannibal was right and her worries and fears were evaporating in the warmth of Hannibal's fire and his friendship. She took another sip of her water. "Please, continue to help him."

Her cell went off them, Hannibal wincing just a little at the sharp sound. "It's Jack's tone." she said apologetically as she picked it up. "Hello?"

"Will isn't picking up his phone, weren't you having dinner with him tonight with Abigail?" Jack said briskly. "Is he still there?"

"No, he's gone to take her back." Alana said.

"Well, I left him some messages. There's been a second murder."

***

After Alana left, mumbling apologies and frantically adding her voice to Will's voice mail, Hannibal sat back down next to the fire. After a few minutes he added the chloroform soaked handkerchief to the flames. Then he settled back to finish his brandy.

***

Will stared morosely at the bodies below him. They stared back with open cloudy eyes.

"It's giving all of us the creeps, but Jack said you'd want to see them before we moved them." Beverly said looking over Will's shoulder.

" 'Want' might be too strong a term." Will replied, breaking eye contact with the bodies and looking instead at Jack, who was standing in deep conversation with the traumatised women who had found the bodies.

She had been taking pictures of the sunset reflecting off the lake, trying to time the photos to get the perfect "mirror image" effect where the sky and glass still water were indistinguishable. She'd set up at the edge of the boat pier and was snapping photo after photo as the sun got lower, set in a blaze of color, and then the light began to fade from the sky. She described feelings of elation as the photos were perfect, before breaking down into quick panting panicked breaths. She'd been coming out every evening for weeks waiting for the water to be still enough to take that photo. So as the sun set she just kept taking photos, and looking at the camera's screen she noticed something white in the water, something breaking the surface of her perfect image. She'd thought it was just some trash floating on the lake, but as it got closer she could see clearer and clearer.

Will turned back to the two bodies in the water. Twins, identical twins or close enough. Two young men, Will was guessing 14. They were dressed identically, in simple white shirts and blue jeans.

"The thing is, it looks like a damn boating accident." Jack said, standing behind him. "They were mischievous teens, the guy who run the boat house says they were poking around yesterday. He ran them off a few times. When he got in this morning and a boat was missing these kids were the first suspects that came to mind."

Someone had pulled the floating bodies to the pier, tethered there now like a boat to dock.

Jack continued,"It was below 40 last night, easy to die if you fall out of a boat from hypothermia and aren't wearing a life jacket. And just as easy if you jump in to save your brother."

That was what was most disturbing about the dead boys. They clung to each other, death and water hadn't separated then. Their arms were around each other’s shoulders, hands still clasped. Rigor mortis would keep them this way if they hadn't found them, keep them until their flesh rotted and their bones finally slipped apart. In Will's mind he could see their white skeleton fingers gently slip away, separating at last. "So it's a textbook drowning?" He said to Jack.

"Yup. From start to finish everything these boys did was wrong."

"Right. And nothing to indicate otherwise?"

"Nope. We haven't done a full autopsy yet, but Zeller and Price jumped in earlier and looked over the bodies. No head wound, no signs of drugs, everything consistent with slipping out of a boat and dying of hypothermia."

Will looked down at the bodies. Jack went back up the pier to give him some space.

***

"There was once a belief that the a murder victim’s eyes would hold on to the image of their killer, so if you could find a way to look into them and extract that image all murders would be solved."

Hannibal looked down at Will. The man was curled up on his couch miserably, resting his head in Hannibal's lap. Gently he reached down and ran his fingers through Wills hair. Will was on his side, with his eyes shut miserably as he talked.

"Of course that wouldn't work now, it's so easy to kill from a distance. So many death’s last image must be of a sudden jolt and the scenery going black. But in this case they saw their killer."

Alana had called Hannibal from the crime scene. Hannibal hadn't considered that being known as Will's lover would encourage others to give him information he would have needed to force out of Wills months before. This was truly one of his best choices. She had described the murder in far too clinical detail, drowned twins a bit odd, and then what had happened with Will. He had been standing at the dock looking down at the bodies in the water, and slowly sunk to knees. When he rolled forward into the lake no one was close enough to catch him. Zeller had run down the pier and pulled Will out, the water was freezing cold, and Price and Beverly were close behind to help them up onto the dock. When Will was lying on the solid ground and had had stopped coughing up water the first thing he said was "The photographer, she killed, the photo-" and then stopped to cough some more. By the time they had conveyed this to Jack she was gone.

Alana had sat between Will and Jack while he had shivered in an EMT blanket and tried to explain. The point of this murder was less about it being a perfect textbook death and more about the aesthetics. The twins, the mirror image of the lake, it all would have been pointless if no one had been there to see it. Either the photographer knew of the killing or had set it up herself.

Jack had seemed wary of this fanciful explanation until Will brought his attention to a detail he picked up in the water. There was an undertow. He'd felt it when he'd fallen in, a strong movement of water that had begun to push him under the pier. The bodies, not wearing life jackets, waterlogged, would have caught in it quickly and been deposited in the dam. Unless someone had corralled them until just before the photo, and the FBI showing up with their boats to tie them too the dock. A records check by Beverly confirmed that every drowning victim had been found at the dam floodgates within 12 hours. The only way those boys could have floated into a picture was if placed and then released nearby.

"There was 20 officers on site, press, rubberneckers, and she still got away." Will said miserably to Hannibal. "I don't know how she did that, but she was bold enough to talk to the police this time about her work. She's only going to become more brazen."

"She craves recognition for her work, after all that time and effort it must be hard to watch all of it go unappreciated. Still, you must see the advantages to her new role."

"It's easier to catch a criminal whose hangs around the scene of her crime." Will admitted, and he shifted and rolled over to look up at Hannibal.

"Although the pattern of escalation seems too quick, one murder and then she's hanging around afterwards."

Will looked so vulnerable in his lap. "So you're saying that she has killed before, and we just didn't catch it?"

"It seems I don't even need to say that." Hannibal said with some amusement and bent over to kiss Will. Ever mindful of Hannibals comfort Will moved up to meet him. Hannibal put his arms around Will, who dragged himself up using Hannibal's shoulder and threw a leg over Hannibal's lap, straddling the man. The kiss grew filthy, Will sucking Hannibals tongue and giving it soft little bites. When Will paused to breathe Hannibal leaned back against the sofa, looking at his kiss drunk Will. He ran his hands up the man's sides and felt them heaving, he could feel Will's pulse in his axillary artery racing at a pace better fitting a rabbit. These murders were not treating Will kindly, normally there would be a calming effect of his presence. Well, once again there was a new way test to apply.

"Will." Hannibal said, a bit sharply but with no malice. "Let me take you tonight."

***  
Will was lying on Hannibal's bed and trying not to shiver. There was no reason to be cold, and if he was the feather duvet was folded at his feet. Getting here had been no problem, he'd wrapped his arms around Hannibal and allowed himself to be lead. Hannibal had undressed him with the slow meticulous manner he always did, pausing to kiss and touch his skin as it was exposed. Hannibal was now undressing himself, a show Will normally enjoyed but tonight, tonight he was so distracted, it was hard to concentrate on the tall man delicately undoing his shirt buttons. The lights were off, but the curtains let in a soft glow that made everything feel slow and unreal, like a dream. Will felt unreal, here in the dark, waiting for Hannibal to join him in bed.

"You have never been with a man in the fashion, I presume?" Hannibal asked, a formality really, it had to be obvious. He was undoing his belt now.

"No, I, never found myself in the position where it appealed to me." Will answered. The bed dipped as Hannibal sat on the edge, taking off his socks.

"If you find yourself again in that position tonight," and Hannibal stood up, removing his pants and boxers in one swift movement and going to place them in the laundry area, "There will be no reason for me to continue."

Will looked a Hannibal's cock as he returned to the bed. It was full, hard, wet were precome had leaked onto his boxes and smeared down the head. "Right now all I want is to keep going." he murmured, moving forward to take hold and give it a few slow strokes.

"I see." Hannibal said with a smile, his eyes wandering down Will's naked body and at Will's own hard cock. "Roll over now, let me prepare you."

Will did, folding his arms under his chin and letting out a little moan at the friction of Hannibals soft sheets against his cock. Behind him he could feel Hannibal settling down onto the bed, nugging Wills legs apart as he moved between them. The first hand on his ass was firm, massing him as it gently exposed him, and then he felt a finger at his hole, but the finger was feeling odd, and it took him a moment to place why. "Are you wearing latex gloves?" Will asked, slightly shocked, turning to look back at Hannibal.

The finger left. Hannibal meet his glance coolly. "It's more sanitary this way. If you prefer-"

"No, no, carry on." Will said, fondness for Hannibal calming him down more than anything else. He wondered why he was surprised at all, Hannibal had a spotless kitchen. He changed his socks halfway through the day. Of course he'd wear gloves for this, which now that Will was expecting them they felt smooth as they entered him in a slow, lazy circles, opening him up. Hannibal pushed in his entire long finger in and Will gave a little moan as the nerve endings lit up, letting him know this was a good idea. Hannibal didn't make a sound, just pulled out his finger to line a second one up at his entrance and slowly push back in. Will's moan was louder this time as Hannibal pushed them in and out.

"I believe you are ready now." Hannibal said, and Will braced himself as he heard Hannibal shift behind him. But instead of hands at his hips, opening him up like he had expected, Hannibal laid down, draping his body over Will. His arms encircled him, the entire length of his body coving Will. One of his arms slipped between Will and the bed, then moved up to Will's mouth. Will kissed the palm. He was completely immobilized, only feeling Hannibals weight and warmth over him. Hannibal shifted then, until Will could feel Hannibals dick just pressing at his cleft. Hannibals hand moved to cup his face and he could feel a soft kiss on the back of his neck. Behind him he could feel Hannibal shift until his hand must have been around his own dick, positioned to enter. "Will." Hannibal said, and how did he have that much control? His voice was so calm he could be calling Will in for dinner, "would you like me to-"

"Yes, yes, you feel so good." and Hannibal pushed in, and Will felt on fire. Hannibal began to trust, a steady rhythm, still cupping Will's face and covering his body and everything was Hannibal, including this wonderful burn inside of him that had him moaning and frantically trying to trust back to get more. Hannibal's movement became faster, and Will shifted a hand down to grab his own dick. Hannibal lifted enough to let him, then dropped back onto his body to finish in an extravagantly hard thrust that left Will seeing stars. As he stilled he kissed Will again, as he came, all over his fist and Hannibals clean sheets.

He lied there a moment, feeling Hannibals quick heartbeat and panting breaths. Hannibal removed himself slowly from the bed, one last sad moan from Will as he pulled out. He felt empty, like some integral part of him was missing, when Hannibal left his back. He stayed face down in the bed, not really trusting himself to move, until Hannibal touched his shoulder.

"Go shower, Will." Hannibal said with a soft smile. "I'll make the bed."

Will stood up on shaky legs, Hannibal helped with a hand and a kiss.

***

"So Will, what would you like to talk about today?" Dr. Du Maurier looked at and leaned back in her chair. Her outfit, Will noticed, was a slightly darker beige then the chair, they went together well, like camouflage.

Will hadn't really planned this session out, he'd spent the last five hours going over old crime scene photos trying to see where the killer had been when they'd missed her. If Hannibal hadn't sent him a text asking him to pick up a certain type of vinegar 'from the shop near Dr. Du Maurier's office' he probably wouldn't have made it here at all. Today his mind was a steady buzz. He had a task, he simply needed to focus on that. Removed from that purpose was confusing, he tried to force his own thoughts back into his head and pick a topic.

"What kind of aesthetically pleasing murder would be the easiest to commit?" As the question came out of his mouth he regretted it. That was the sort of question he could ask Hannibal, who would look thoughtful and then quote something obscure. Or anyone at the FBI, who could rattle off their more memorable cases. He was forgetting how to talk to normal people.

"I'm afraid I'm not well informed in the art of murder." Dr. Du Maurier said. "I assume this is for a case of yours?"

"Yes, sorry, yes, I just spend all of my time lately talking about murder and thinking about it and even if it's not what I want to talk about that's where my mind goes when fishing around for topics of conversation." Will said in a rush.

"That makes logical sense. However do you want to talk about murder, or is it all you can think to speak of?" Dr. Du Maurier asked.

Will had to concentrate for a moment. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." he said slowly, letting the thought unravel in his mind. "I don't even want to think about it, but when I'm on a case like this it seems that there's nothing else out there."

"Surely there is other things in your life." Dr. Du Maurier said."Other relationships."

"At work I have friendly relationships, but still, those revolve around murders. At home I have my dogs, not the best conversationalists but the topic of murder does rarely come up. And of course there's Hannibal." Will gave a little smile. "He seems content to talk about whatever I bring up. Which, sadly, involves murder most days."

"That does leave you with a rather murder centric support group though." Dr. Du Maurier pointed out.

"It's where I need support the most."

"Is it? From what you have been saying it's the only area of your life where you feel comfortable asking for support. Do you think your relationships would change if you started working other topics of conversation into the mix? Or stopped coming to them with only murder related questions?" Dr. Du Maurier looked at him seriously. "Try, Will. Try to move these relationships to a more traditional space, and see what happens."

 

***

Hannibal found most of Will's murder photographs boring. The simplicity of them, the stupid thoughtless actions that lead to this, it was like looking at a child's scribble and knowing that those pigments could have made a masterpiece. Will had brought a huge stack of the ones he found most promising back home, where he'd spread them out on his porch while he worked. He had taken his pack of dogs on a run, leaving the emptiness as an opportunity. Will hadn't spotted a victim of their artist yet, and it seemed unlikely that he would either in this batch. Hannibal turned instead to the photo's of the known, more elegant murders, if a little modernistic for his taste. He didn't think there was much he could do to help Will with these, but that was alright. He could help Will in other ways.

***

"If I ever meet this murderer I am punching her in the tit." Beverly said darkly.

From her side of the table Alana gave a giggle that ended in something like a snort. "The tit?" She said, taking her eyes away from the photo's spread out on the table. They had commandeered the second floor conference room, the entire ten person table was covered in stacks of photos. Discards went on the chairs, with one special chair for photo's to send on to Will. It had three photo's on it, one of them from an unsolved case which probably wasn’t related, Alana suspected Beverly had put on because she was hoping Will might solve the case causally while looking at it. The photo hunt wasn't going well.

"I think the left one." Beverly said, also looking up and then steachted, lifting her arms high over her head. They had been in here all day, outside the light was fading. "Looking at these photo's when these were fresh cases was bad enough, having to go through them again is just running sandpaper over the bruise."

Alana raised her eyebrows at Beverly, who picked up a photo and held it out. "Torturer. I don't know why this one in included, we caught that guy."

"Ah."

"So what do you think, think that she has been killing for years under all of our noses?"

Alana nodded slowly. "It would make sense. My big worry is she's been copycatting around, there's more than a few bad guys that don't admit to all their crimes. If she's been adding one or two to their tallies, we'd never know."

Beverly stared at her. "Think she could be behind some of the bigger names?"

Alana sighed. "I'm going to ask Will to review all the Chesapeake Ripper files, he's so well publicized and varied enough that she could easily have done something we attributed to him."

Beverly made a sour face. "Jack will okay that in a second, but Will might be slightly annoyed to go over old territory again."

"Well it's his own fault for being an empathetic soul whose genius who is making us stay late."

Beverly laughed and went back to flipping through photos.

***

Abigail was staring out the window, and Will moved to join her. Beyond Hannibals office was snow, falling lazily. Abigail stared at it with an intensity that Will could both related to and recognize as something that needed to be cause for worry. But he couldn’t think of how to help her as she stared out the window. Instead he stared at the flakes as they drifted, fluttering almost, to some dark and distant ground.

"Abigail."

Abigail turned to look at Hannibal, who was working at his desk. Will found himself unable to look away from the snow even as she left the window. Behind him he listened to the two of them chat. It was a conversation of almost no importance, Hannibal was asking her about what she wanted to have for dinner on her next meeting. She was talking about roasts she'd eaten in the past, Hannibal was suggesting some sort of Arabic spiced meat that was almost, but not quite, not even remotely like what she was suggesting. The two laughed about this.

"Will." And now it was his turn to turn around, but as he did he found Hannibal had come to him, standing at his side. He started to lean into the man, then stopped himself.

"Alana and Abigail just left, she said her car was better equipped to drive in the snow." Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will. "I suspect it is really because she lets Abigail listen to that horrible noise she considers music."

Will smiled. "Not all of us can be lovers of classical music."

"I don't see why not. Abigail did say goodbye to you, but you were too lost in the snow to hear her."

"It's such a nice place to be lost in, quiet and soft. But that was rude of me, I should have snapped out of it."

"I think everyone here understands that you will get lost in yourself, from time to time. It's part of how you work. Your friends accept that." Hannibal kissed him briefly. "Would you like to stay here, or come to bed?"

Will twisted his mouth in a little grimace. "Alana left another batch of photos for me to look through. If I don't get to them now I'll wake up in the middle of the night worried that I'm missing something."

"Then you should go through them now, of course." Hannibal said. "I'll be upstairs, whenever you are ready join me."

"Thank you." Will kissed Hannibal, already regretting his choice to work. "I'll be up in an hour or so, I think."

"Take your time, and if you want me to analyze any for you leave them on my desk." Hannibal left the room quietly. Will forced himself to be aware of this, trying not to let himself slip back into the peace of snow falling. Before he could lose himself again he turned his head a bit, and saw the file of photos Alana left for him. There was always work.

This, Will realized as he sat down, wasn't even going to take an hour. The Chesapeake Ripper file was old hat at this point, he’d seen them before. Horrible murders, all of them, but with a dramatic flair that was as good as a signature. But he had said he'd look over them for an imposter murderer, and he would. He glanced at the first one, pieces of the man spread over the ground, and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to do this murderer by murderer, he knew the file well enough to avoid that. In his mind he lined up all the victims, unconnectable in life but tied together by their deaths. He pictured them, or their pieces in some cases, on clean, smooth autopsy tables. He walked between them. Removed from their setting they seemed less dramatic, more real. He paused between two tables, one with a man found in the first group of victims, body ripped apart at the joints like a cow being broken down, next to a lady with a missing heart found more recently. Gently he touched her shoulder, and she turned her head to look at him. He slipped the sheet off her body and looked at the neatly bisected chest, all the ribs removed and placed delicately to the side like fish bones on a plate. She glanced down at her empty chest and then back at him. She gave him a little nod and then began to sink back into water that was taking away all the victims. All the victims he had assigned to the Ripper he noted, no imposters here. Will found himself alone in the room, just one table left in the corner. Miriam Lass laid there, minus an arm. She stared up at the ceiling, not looking at Will as he approached. She was different. She was the only one here who was different, still one of the Ripper’s but not quite like the others. Will stood over her and whispered "You died terrified. You were killed. But you found him first, didn't you? You're the only one who has."

He could feel her missing hand in his.

Will sat up with a start, trying to remember where he was, then as he recognized the surroundings glancing at the clock. It hadn't even been ten minutes. He slouched back in the chair, thinking about Miriam and what she must have known. She hadn't left notes, and no one had known where she had gone that day. But maybe, maybe, he could figure out how her mind was working. The Ripper was still active, still in the area. If she had found him before, and if he could replicate her thoughts in his mind, maybe he could get him that way. Perhaps with help, perhaps Hannibal could-but no, he didn't need to drag Hannibal into this anymore then the man already was. He could have something, one thing in his life that wasn't touched by murder. One thing that was shining and pure. As pure as it could be anyway. 

Hannibal was reading in bed when he reached the door, and smiled when he looked up at Will. "I didn't expect you so soon." he said, and put his book aside. "Did you solve the case already?" and then he was kissing Will, who had crawled over Hannibal and was relaxing into his warmth.

"Not even a little." Will said between kisses.

***  
"Hello Will." Jack said as he walked into his office. "And Alana." he added as she gave a little wave from his second guest chair. "What do you two have for me."

"Nothing." Will said.

"What do you two need from me?" Jack asked as he hung up his hat and started to take off his coat.

"We need you to talk about Miriam inasmuch detail as you can, and then help us find her family." Alana said.

Jack froze, his coat halfway to the hook. "Why?"

"Because she found him. And if I could think like her, maybe I could find him too." Will said.

"She's dead, he killed her." Jack unfroze, hung up his coat, and moved around them to sit at his desk.

"She still found him first. I’m certain of that.” Will said firmly. “And I know more about him now then she could have, if we can work together, even like this, we'll find him."

Jack gave Will a long look, then turned to Alana. "Your turn."

"I think it might be good for Will to be someone other than a murderer for a while." Alana said. "If he tries to feel what she felt, think like her he might be able to solve some things we can't. I'm not saying it'll go perfectly, but I think there is somethings that could be gained. But we need your help first."

Jack let out a breath through his nose. "Will, you've always figured things out from a physical space. Do think you can recreate someone from just words?"

"That's the tricky part. I'm not sure. But I have no other ideas, I've seen victim after victim of this monster and all I'm getting is images of quick hands, a stony face. I have no idea what he's like, where he goes, how he chooses his victims. Miriam figured part of that out, enough to spook him. If I can at least understand what she did we'll be closer."

"I don't want to lose you too." Jack said, staring past Will and Alana, not able to make eye contact with either.

"That's the other reason I'm here." Alana said. "I'm going, for lack of a better word, to supervise. And you know I'm more conservative than you. If at any time I think Will's going in too deep, or wandering off somewhere either mentally or physically I'll pull him back. We talked about it this morning, and I agreed to support him."

"Will asked?" Jack said.

"I asked." Will said. "I asked, and I will continue to ask for help. I want to catch this killer. I think this is my best chance. Do you think you can support it?"

Jack nodded and leaned forward over his desk, hands clasped in front as he stared down his agents. "But you both need to keep me in the loop, I don't want you as much as going to the library without me knowing."

"Your text messages are going to fill up pretty fast." Alana said, a small smile pulling up her lips.

"Daily log, text to it, we'll work it out with IT. Doesn't matter, I just need to know what you two are up too."

"That's understandable, and what I'd expect under the circumstance." Will said. "When can we start? I'll need you to describe her to me in as much detail as possible."

"We can start right after we catch the killer of the murder scenes." Jack said firmly. "No chasing ghosts until the solid people are dealt with. Any leads there?"

Both Will and Alana shook their heads.

"Then get back to work."

***  
The problem, Alana thought to herself as she walked down the hallway with Will’s footsteps echoing behind her, is that we don’t have a solid person to catch. And there is likely a limit to how many ghosts we can catch at a time. She stopped, and behind her Will did too.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Will, is there anything you can think of that would help you catch the maker of these murder scenes before she creates the next one? We’ve gone through stacks of photos, but beyond that I can’t think of anything that would work.”

“Me either. It’s frustrating, until recently all her work was designed to be camouflaged. No one would have noticed it, it would look like every other photograph of a murder.”

Alana felt something tickling at the back of her brain. “So what would make her change this?”

“We did find her scene, and identified it. That’s going to change things.”

“But why did we find that one? No one thinks that was her first murder, it was too good. But if she could get away with it why did she stop?”

“Maybe she didn’t mean too.” Will spoke slowly, like the words weren’t yet fully formed. “Perhaps there was another change in her life when she murdered those two.

“Two.” Alana said. “Both murders have been in twos.” 

“Twos…she had a partner. A partner that must have helped her stage these, and now she’s on her own...things are changing, she’s discovering her own artistic voice. I’m not looking for murders she committed in the past, I’m looking for her past collaborations.”

Alana spun around and looked at Will. He was staring over her head, down the hallway blankly. His jaw was moving slightly, but he was saying nothing. Alana’s hand hovered over his arm, wanting to touch him but not knowing if she should break his concentration. She moved her hand away, and instead said gently “Will.” He looked down at her, blinking rapidly away whatever he had been seeing. 

“She wasn’t the photographer before, that’s why she stuck around last time, it was an experiment. She’s always been the murder, but her partner staged the bodies. I’m not going to be able to figure out which murders were her’s though.”

“The photos.” Alana said. “We could organize them by photographers.”

Will smiled at her, too bright. “Yes.”

***  
Sandy Smith, six months a widow of former crime scene investigator Harold Smith, was making a sandwich when the knock came at the door. She looked down at her lunch, the second slice of bread was in her hand, she wondered if she should ignore the door for a second longer and place it. 

The knocking grew more insistent. Then a voice yelled “Mrs. Smith, this is the police!”

Ahhh. Well she had been expecting it since the lake. She placed the bread, lifted the sandwich. She was three bites in when the door was broken down, swallowing and putting half the sandwich back on it’s plate when the first officer came screaming into her kitchen, gun drawn. Hands empty she lifted them up in surrender.

***  
“So was she the artist or the assistant on your case?” Hannibal asked. 

Will was seated at the counter, drinking a beer while Hannibal bustled around making dinner. Hannibal would probably not like being described as someone who bustled, Will decided. But he was. The man lit up around food, he had such a passion for making beautiful things that wouldn’t last. Will could appreciate it, but he didn’t quite understand.

“It was a true partnership.” Will answered. “From what she’s telling us they picked their victims and cause of death together. They would fix up the locations, stage the bodies. The only thing she did alone was the killing, and he would take the photo’s for work. They had a photo album, like a wedding album, and they would flip through it together some nights. The murder suicide we found, they planned it together, had started staging even, when he died in a car accident. She was heartbroken, but wanted to mount their last planned work, first thing she had done alone. She realized though without a photo by him it was incomplete. So she decided to do a more satisfying scene, something she’d suggested but he’d said was too risky.”

“She sounds like a very chatty murderer.”

“For the past ten years she’s had her husband to talk about this with, I think she’d mostly happy for the company right now. She knew she’d be caught, there’s been some coy hints he was tampering with the scene’s to keep them safe. But without him she felt so lost, I think that’s why she killed those two boys. Killing made her feel closer to him, and killing in two’s meant she was sparing either half of feeling lost like she did.”

Hannibal took something out of the oven and set in on the counter, then went over to Will. He kissed him lightly. “So for her killing children was the equivalent of wearing your lovers sweater?”

Will winced at the metaphor, but continued. “She misses him still, when we showed her our collection of his crime scene photo’s she acted like we were handing her old love letters. She’s every criminologists dream, she’s probably still sitting in that interrogation room, telling the stories behind each photo of their work together.”

Hannibal ran his hand through Will’s messy hair. “Would that every murderer you catch be so eager to confess their sins. So many kill with little foresight, she’ll be a treasure to researchers for years to come.”

“She’ll be in the mental institution before the week is out.” Will said, surprised at how much he empathized with the misery that awaited her there. “For the rest of her life she’ll be surrounded by people trying to understand what makes her different.”

“You make it sound like cruel and unusual punishment.” Hannibals light tone was undermined by moving around the counter and leaning into Will, offering himself up for Will to slump back into. “And I suspect for someone like you it would be. But it will never be you Will, your killing isn’t the sort that people get locked up for. You are safe.”

“I know.” Will said. “And she deserves it, to be stuck there. But I see the doors closing, with me on the outside, and always find myself thinking ‘There, but for the grace of god’ and then my mind feels dark.”

“Fear is natural Will, it’s just one more sign you won’t end up there.” He gave Will one last kiss and then moved away. “I’m going to plate the roast, set the table?”

“Of course. Just us tonight?”

“Just us. I thought after your day you might like a quiet dinner.”

Will stopped and looked back into the kitchen. Hannibal was cutting the roast, carefully transferring each slice to the plates and drizzling it with sauce. They were going to sit down at his table, and eat, talking about Hannibal's day now, clients with names he couldn’t tell Will and likely a long explanation as to where the roast came from. Then after dinner they would sit in the office and each work on their own projects. In a few hours they’d go to bed, sleeping comfortably in each others warmth. 

Will wondered if he’d ever been this happy.

***  
Hannibal looked up at Will’s back as he left the room. He didn’t think Will realized how much calmer he was over this murder, he was getting used to the idea that people died in such dramatic fashions. And his empathy for the killer, normally he was so quick to distance himself from them, but here he was acknowledging their shared bond. Hannibal congratulated himself for him influences, it was a long game but one he knew he could win. He was certain no one would ever understand Will fully, not even himself, but that was alright. One didn’t need to know how a car worked to drive it.

Hannibal picked up the plates and brought them to the table.

***  
Alana hadn’t expected to be awake at 5 AM, but apparently that was thing that was happening today. She stared at her bedside clock a few more seconds, confirming the the ringing noise wasn’t her alarm going off two hours early, then got up to get her phone.

“Hello?”

“Alana, we need Miriam's list of doctors. The killer was among them. That was her conclusion when she was killed, that was the only focus she had. Jack said she’d brought it up before she was killed, but they double checked the lists they had after she disappeared, and found nothing. It’s old territory, but I know we need to reopen it. The problem was she wasn’t suppose to be looking into medical records-”

“Will.” Alana said, cutting him off as she wandered through her house, starting the tea kettle and turning on the space heater. “Skip forward. What do you need from me?”

“I need you to go through the list with me. We need to research every doctor with new eyes. I came in early, I’m pulling together what we already have and seeing if there’s anyway to expand it, Miriam didn’t leave any notes but they tried to recreate what she may have done after she disappeared . Did you have any plans for today?” Will sounded excited. Alana hadn’t heard anyone this excited at 5 AM in a long time.

“Yes, but I’ll be free at noon so I’ll stop by.” She could hear the water boiling in her teapot, and moved closer to the warmth of her stove. “You get the files, I’ll help with what you have then.”

“Thank you Alana, I’ll see you then. Also, I sorry I called so early, I just had a moment last night where everything seemed so clear, I couldn’t wait anymore.” Will said.

Alana found herself nodding it was understandable at the phone. “I understand, and I’ll see you at noon when I’m awake enough to help. Bye Will.”

“Bye.” He hung up and Alana started at the kettle, waiting for it to help her face the day.

***  
At noon Alana walked into the conference room Will had commandeered for his effort to find it full of boxes and people.

“I’m just saying, my expertise isn’t in going through files, it’s in looking for clues on crime scenes.” Zeller was arguing. Beverly rolled her eyes.

“Tell me again, what did Jack say?” Price asked with an air of innocence. “Was it that you’re super special and can be excused?”

“No, I think it was get your ass in there and help the team.” Beverly chimed in from her corner. She was flipping through a file on a side table. “Man, for a 40 year old this lady has seen a lot of doctors. She once got a second opinion on a bunion removal.”

Alana walked past Price and Zeller, still bickering quietly with each other, and joined Will seated at the center of the table, staring at the laptop in front of him. He glanced up at her and gave a weak smile. “Per my instructions to keep him up to date I checked in with Jack this morning. My reward was this.” he gestured at the team. “They are just as thrilled to be here as I am to have them.” The last earned him a huge grin from Beverly. “Every person in the medical profession that interacted with our victims should be in these boxes. Jimmy, Brian, and Beverly are finding the names, we’ll google them to give me short biography, and I’ll sort them by how well they fit Miriam's profile.”

Zeller looked up. “You mean if they are middle aged white guys? That’s not going to narrow it down much.”

Will ignored him. “Ready?” He handed her a second laptop. 

“What happened when Miriam did this?” Alann asked, taking the laptop.

“I think someone on the list killed her.” Will answered.

“Every single person in these boxes was cleared by the FBI team that was brought in to oversee her disappearance.” Zeller said. “This is not a good use of our time.” He glared at the people in the room. No one looked up from their tasks. He sat down at next to Price, who passed him a file, and started working.

 

***  
Part Two  
***  
Will gasped for breath, fighting against the ropes that bound him to the chair. The rope around his neck was too tight, he was going to pass out again. Last time it had been loosened it enough for him to come around, but he’d pulled it to tight trying to escape. He stopped his struggles and just concentrated on breathing.

In and out.  
In.  
Out.  
***  
-Five Days Prior-

Jack looked at Will, sitting patiently across his desk from him. He’d been dreading Will coming to interview him since the day they’d wrapped up the Smith case. Will seemed nervous too, he hadn’t made eye contact since he’d walked in and was now staring down at his hands, softly wringing them. Jack could just hear the soft sound. He’d better start the conversation then.

“I didn’t know Miriam well.” He said. He’d gotten her killed and he didn’t even know her, he’d heard her scared voice in a recording speak a significant percentage of all the words she’d ever say to him. “I knew her more by reputation than anything else.

Will looked up, but not quite meeting his eyes. “Tell me about that reputation then, and why it attracted her to you.”

Jack leaned back in his chair, conjuring up memories of who she was when her files had first crossed him. “An instructor complained about her to me. Said she was dominated the class discussion so thoroughly that the other students weren’t going to be critical enough because they’d always had someone smarter to depend on. Before that she’d tried to get my attention, but everyone who wants to go somewhere does that, but after I heard that complaint I looked her up again. Top of her class, worked about as hard as you’d expect, all that. But knowing she could dominate a room of striving competitive student to the point where they depended on her made all the difference.”

“But it sounds like the teacher didn’t like that?” Will asked.

Jack shrugged. “He was an idiot, doesn’t work here anymore. You don’t have to be smarter than people to control them, just clever. He wasn’t clever enough to handle a class discussion. I think he works in New York now. Anyway Miriam was smart, she proved it, I brought her in.”

“Did you like working with her?” Will asked.

“She was smart, hard working and eager. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Some people wouldn’t.” Will pointed out.

“I’m too smart to be intimidated by intelligent people.” Jack pointed out. “Where others would be threatened I saw an allie. When she first can on a crime scene she looked a little green, but that didn’t even slow her down. Someone like that I would fight for.”

Will nodded. “When you first sent her after the Ripper, how explicitly did you tell her to be a bit casual with the rules?”

Jack could remember that day, her standing in his office, nervous and excited and determined. “I said it was easier to beg forgiveness.”

“That was all she needed?”

“I don’t even think she needed to hear that, if it had been any other job she would have already been out the door.”

“Alright.” Will said, then stood up. “Thank you Jack, I have a better picture of her now.” He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. In the silence left Jack thought about what Miriam was becoming in Will’s head, would she be too fierce? He couldn’t know. He turned and blindly started to shuffle papers on his desk, hoping the movement of daily life would fool him into getting back to work.

***

Dr. Du Maurier passed Hannibal his wine, careful that their fingers didn’t touch. He’d been so impressed the first time she’d done that. Over the years she’d handed him over a hundred glasses, papers, pens, and not once had her skin glanced across his. She was a true professional. He took a sip.

“Before you go, is there anything else you’d like to discuss with me?” Dr. Du Maurier asked, taking a sip from her own glass. “Any more little issues?”

Hannibal considered. He’s already talked about his practice, going well if slightly uninteresting at this time, Will, lovely although the day to day affairs could be stressful, and how he felt about the newest knives coming out of Japan. He’d talked slightly longer than he’d meant to about that.

“I do not think so, how about you? Any pressing issues in your life you’d like to divulge?”

Dr. Du Maurier shook her head slightly, not enough to muss up her hair. “It wouldn’t be my place to burden you with my life, as I have mentioned before.”

“Oh come now, the session is over,” Hannibal cajoled, “you can feel free to share what’s on your mind as well.”

“Really Hannibal, you know the dangers of allowing you patient's too close.” she said with a slight smile. “Besides, my issues are so mundane that I would not feel right sharing them without paying you to listen. I wouldn’t bore friends with how I feel about my roof needing patches or dissatisfaction with a brother in law.”

“Well, I suppose I should be happy with you attentiveness to my feelings. In that case tell me one little thing. Are you still comfortable seeing Will?”

Dr. Du Maurier stilled. “I can’t talked about another patient with you, Hannibal. You know that.”

“I’m not asking about Will, I’m asking about you. I know you were reluctant to take him on, as he was to start seeing you, but over time he’s grown so comfortable with your presence, I see it as a great success. At least from his point of view. But is it for you? I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“If I was uncomfortable with Will I would have firmly but politely steered him towards another psychiatrist. As it is during our first session we addressed his level of comfort with me, and while doing so I assessed mine. He seems harmless to me.”

Hannibal looked amused. “For a harmless man he’s killed a large number of people.”

Dr. Du Maurier shrugged. “He kills killers. Madman, murderers out to do him or those around him harm. As long as I don’t go on a killing spree within his sight I feel safe.” She took a sip of her wine. “It must be strange, for you, being the lover of someone so gentle yet capable of such violence.”

“I think that most people, when faced with death, are capable of great violence. The only thing different about Will is he finds himself faced with it more often than others.”

“You should dwell on why that is more often.” Dr. Du Maurier said, “Most people seek lives away from such ugly realities, and yet he seems to throw himself into it. He may hate it, may think it’s eroding his soul, and yet he stays.”

“He thinks he is doing some good.” Hannibal answered.

“I think most people believe that about their chosen careers.” Dr. Du Maurier answer, and gestured Hannibal to the door. She never took his arm. Truly an amazing women.

 

***  
Will sat still, gulping air. He could still breath, as long as he sat perfectly straight he’d be fine. As the air filled his lungs he calmed down and tried to observe what he could of the room. It was completely dark, not even a crack of light coming in from under the door. The air smelt stale, Will doubted the room had a window. He couldn’t smell anything else. No mold, no dust, and no water. That was strange. Where was he?

Wherever he was he wasn’t leaving it soon.   
***

Alana sipped her tea. She was sitting at Wills counter while he muddled around the kitchen and put together dinner for them. She’d brought a light salad, he was trying to make pasta. In some ways it was relaxing to eat with someone who wasn’t Hannibal, there would be no dishes she couldn’t name and she wasn’t too nervous to bring a side dish. She’d be warned by other members of the faculty the first time she’d gone to Hannibals home for dinner to not bring anything, that when he said don’t bring anything he meant it, and if she did she might not be invited back. Now years later she knew a few things that he would accept, a fine wine or liquor, rare spices, strange ingredients brought back from trips. But you couldn’t show up with a salad from bagged lettuce. Will turned and passed her a plate with spaghetti. She set it on the counter and waited for Will to join her before starting. It was shockingly good. She turned a suspicious eye to Will.

Will meet her eyes for a moment and grinned. “I mentioned you were going to stop by tonight for dinner, it was all I could do to stop him from making fresh pasta once he heard what I was planning. I don’t know when he found time to make the sauce, it was dropped off at work for me. With heating instructions. Very, very detailed heating and serving instructions. I’ll let him know you tasted his influence, he’ll be pleased.”

“Also thank him for me, while I’m sure whatever you would have made was fine-”

“I had a jar.”

“-this is wonderful. It’s sweet that he goes through all this effort.” Alana gave Will a little poke in the ribs. “You two doing well?”

To her absolute delight Will’s cheeks colored. “Yes, at least I think we are and Hannibal isn’t saying otherwise, I’m not that great at relationships. But I’m happy.”

“Good.” Alana said and took another bite of salad. 

“But we should get to work.”

“I’d rather talk about you being happy.”

“Work.” Will said firmly. “The medical reviews are going slowly, I’m beginning to get worried every doctor in the state is a suspect. I’m keeping one person at all times on reviewing records, mostly Zeller since he’d so enthusiastic about it.” Alana snickered into her pasta. “How did the interviews with her family go?”

Alana put down her fork and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I brought my notebook, but I’m not certain what you’ll get out of it. Too much time has past to get a clear view of who she was from her family. Speak no ill of the dead can sometimes translate into think no ill. They loved Miriam, that shines through. But the version of her described wouldn’t have been ruthlessly trying to race to the top, she would have been solving the problems of the world with a smile and kind words. Either they didn’t know the same girl Jack did, or she was very duplicitous with them.”

Will gave a small hum of consideration. “Which do you think is more likely?”

“I think she showed a nicer face to her family. Their home was very...average. I didn’t see any things that would imply they strove for great goals. There was no plasma tv, no expensive car. They didn’t have a shelf of her awards. She had them displayed in her room, but when they took me in there they pointed me towards a needlepoint pillow she once made. I’m sure they supported her and loved her, but they saw her as something softer than she was.”

“And she let them.” Will said. “She didn’t rebel or run away. She kept her awards in her room, would you have been able to see them when walking by an open door?”

Alana pictured the layout in her head. “No. They would have seen the pillow on her bed.”

“Would she have seen them?”

“Yes.” Alana said, slowly. “She would have seen them while lying in bed, or from her desk.” They were both silent a moment. “Do you think she knew how deceptive that was?” Alana asked. “Or was it subconcious?”

Will shrugged. “Let’s talk to her friends next.”

“I have a short list from her parents, also an ex girlfriend they didn’t seem to like that much.”

“Why didn’t they like her?”

Alana considered, then answered “They didn’t say they didn’t like her, just the tone of their voice and the time it took them to find her last name implied a certain distance I interpreted as dislike.”

“Do you have time tomorrow to visit?” Will asked hopefully.

Alana gave him a side eye. “I thought you had a full day of classes tomorrow?”

“It’s not a very interesting class.” Will admitted. “I was thinking of having a TA review the material in a study session so we could go hunt down leads.”

Alana set her fork on the now empty plate and looked at Will. “You’d rather be out investigating than teaching now?”

“No, just, this case, it means so much to Jack. And me. It’s more important than teaching is to me right now. Once it’s over,” and Will wasn’t looking at her, he was focusing on the wall across the kitchen, “I think life will be a bit simpler.”

“This is your last case.” Alana said with sudden clarity. “This is where you are planning to stop.”

“Yes.” Will said. “I think it is. To spend so much time in the company of murders and madman, I can’t keep doing it. The guilt knowing that my selfish desire to be sane is letting them roam free keeps me here. But I think if I can solve this one case, get this murderer off the street, then the guilt might let me run free again.” He looked at her and smiled slightly. “And for that I’ll skip a class.”

Alana nodded. “Well, we still can’t go tomorrow, I don’t have an address yet. Friday?”

“Friday.” Will agreed. “Pass me your plate and we’ll take the pack for it’s constitutional?”

Alana looked down at the dogs watching them eager eyed for any split food. One of them had perked it ears at the word constitutional. “Good plan. And you’re going to need to find a new synonym for walk again.”

At the word walk every dog jumped up and ran for the door. Alana laughed and got her coat.

***  
A door opened. The light hit Will’s eyes, they were completely unprepared and he jerked his head down. That was a mistake, the rope around his neck was pulled tight and he found himself gasping for breath again, knowing he shouldn’t thrash but unable to control that panic.

A hand at the back of his neck and the rope loosened, he could breath again. 

Will sucked in air and tried to think. The the touch was kind, soft. As if he didn’t want Will to hurt himself. A bottle was raised to Will’s mouth and he drank greedily.

“What do you want?” Will asked quietly as the bottle was lowered, and was prepared for what he got, a sharp slap to the face. He kept his head down and was prepared for more, but nothing came. The person moved away from him, he counted 6 footsteps before the door with it’s blinding light opened. His eyes narrowed he could just make out the silhouette of a tall person in it. The door closed. 

At least he could breath.

***

 

“Will, could you take a look at this?” Jack said as he walked across Will’s emptying classroom. There was, Will noted, ten students in Jack’s way between the door and Will. Every one of them scrambled out of Jack’s path. He didn’t seem to notice, handing a tablet to Will.

Will took it, and then put his glasses back on as he walked around his desk to sit down and get a better look at the screen. Jack stayed on the other side of the desk, waiting for Will to absorb the images.

Will glanced back up. “He left them alive?”

Jack nodded. “All of them were found alive, dumped in the streets, a week or two after they were taken. All of them expressed surprise that he didn’t kill them once he finished.”

Will looked back down at the photos. There were of parts of people, an arm here, leg there. Still attached to the rest of the body, not that he could tell from the framing of the photos but unattached limbs slumped frightenly. These bodies were frightening too, the skin had been cut into lace like patterns. Huge chunks of skin, on one person Will estimated over 50% was missing, had been removed to reveal red muscle gleaming through a thin layer of fat.

“He’s choosing his victims well.” Will said. “Too much fat you don’t get that lovely red color, to little the victim dies. Unfortunately for us you can just eyeball that sort of thing, probably not a sign of a professional.” Will looked up at Jack. “Unless-”

But Jack was shaking his head. “No reports from any of the victims that he seemed like a professional anything. He never used technical terms, and the only tool he had was a scalpel. We’re looking into body art extremist, but you’re looking at this man later work, there’s some burnt bodies found in Chicago that we think were his earlier victims. From what we can tell he’s learned from experience.”

“He’s definitely talented.” Will murmured without looking up from the man with hand shapes carved out of this legs. “Do you know where he’s holding these people?”

“The last one got to walk right out of the crime scene, we’re going to check it out tomorrow morning. Join me?”

“Course.” Will said, and flipped through the photos until he found the most recent date. There was triangles cut out of the skin, tiny ones at the wrist that grew as they moved up the arm, until the last one nearly encircled the bicep. It was excellent work. It also must have been excruciatingly painful.

***  
“So, what are we cooking today?” Abigail asked as she washed her hands. Hannibal kept an eye on her as she reached for the proper towel to dry her hands with, she’d gotten the counter towel mixed with the hand towel last week and it had set his teeth on edge. He hadn’t thought she’d noticed, but her hand hovered over the incorrect choice a moment before selecting the correct one. Either she was perceptive or he was telegraphing to much. Interesting.

“Today we are baking.” He said, throwing open a dry goods cupboard and removing a selection of flours.

“I don’t have much experience baking.” Abigail admitted. “It was something my Mom used to do for my Dad and me, when we where out.” 

Hannibal heard the unspoken story in her words, how she’d come home to warm air and the scent of chocolate chip cookies and suddenly wanting to scream because her her hair still smelled like blood. But he had new memories for Abigail, a gift he was happy to give. “Well, while baking is not my speciality I enjoy having some mastery of all culinary arts. Baking I must say is more science than art, the wrong ratio of salt to flour and the bread is tasteless, no sauce or side dish can save it. So when I bake I first always follow the instructions to the letter, no room for improvisation until I feel I understand the recipe. Today we are going to make something I’ve made many times, tulipes. It’s a simple cookie with a wonderful shape, I’ll be using them to hold the sorbet we’ll have with dinner tonight.”

“Less dishes then.” Abigail said with a smile as she joined him around the counter. “Do you need me to stir?”

“Wisk this butter, once it’s ready I’ll add the rest of the ingredients.” Hannibal said as he made one more trip to the fridge. “It needs to be very smooth so the rest of the ingredients will incorporate correctly.” He watched as she held the whisk like he showed her a few weeks ago and began to mix, a bit fast but certainly within acceptable parameters. For all her willfulness she took direction beautifully, he could see a day when she’d not even need to be told what he wanted her to do.

She glanced up from the bowl. “Like this?”

“Yes.” Hannibal smiled. “Just like that.”

***

Hannibal had been resting on the bed when Will had come in, reading a book that he must disaggre with from the scowl on his face. Will had quickly striped naked, gaining an appricative look from his pajama clad partner on the bed, and then crawled on top of Hannibal, kissing him and removing his silk pants as the book was laid aside. He was now curled up against him, fisting the man’s cock while Hannibal moaned.

“Hmmmmm? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” Will whispered into Hannibals ear.

Hannibal gave another moan as Will squeezed the head of his cock. “I said if you stop it would be the cruelest thing possible. I can imagine nothing worse” - a short pause as he sucked in another breath -”then not feeling your hands on me right now.”

“Can’t have that now.” Will murmured back. “But I can think of something a little better.” He removed his hands and slide down Hannibal’s body, settling himself between the legs. Hannibals knees fell apart as he he understood Will’s intentions. He took him into his mouth, gratified to hear a moans as Hannibals dick slide in. He could feel one of Hannibal’s hands in his hair, lightly. He never dared touch anyones head when they were doing this too him, he was always nervous he’d push them down. Hannibal never pushed him, as he moved up and down he could feel the hand in his hair tightening, but all it did was caress as Hannibal came down his throat. Will closed his mouth as tight around the cock as he could and swallowed. When it was done he lifted up his head, Hannibals hand now softly stroking his face, and looked up in to Hannibals lovely, relaxed face.

“Beautiful.” Hannibal whispered, and Will felt hot all over. HIs dick, which had already been hard, was suddenly an ache of want and desire. He pushed himself up Hannibals body, kissing those lips. Hannibals hand found his dick, and seconds later he was moaning into Hannibals mouth as he came over Hannibals thighs. 

Will rolled over and laid still as Hannibal went for a washcloth. He closed his eyes, opening them again when Hannibal leaned down, gave him a soft kiss, and passed him the towel. As he cleaned himself up he looked at Hannibal getting beneath the covers, readying himself for bed.

“You’re happy, right?” Will asked as he moved across the room, getting his boxers to sleep in. 

Hannibal looked at him curiously. “Have I done anything to signal otherwise?” he asked.

“No, no, it’s just, I thought that I should check. People don’t always check, and they think that since they are happy everyone else must be happy and then their wife runs off with the yoga instructor and they are completely unaware. So I’d thought I’d check.” Will rambled, embarrassed.

“Ahh.” Hannibal sat up, and smiled. “Will, if I was ever unhappy enough to run off with a yoga instructor you’d know far, far, before it got to that stage. In fact you’d be the first to know if I had a problem with anything between us. I do not believe in letting issues fester like a rotting apple, a small problem with spread it’s spoil to all that it touches. I want nothing to spoil this, any bad parts will be cut out.”

“An excellent food metaphor, Dr. Lecter.” Will said and he joined him in bed.

***

The neighborhood wasn’t a bad one. It just had a few too many foreclosures, a few empty houses. There was a management company, people came by and kept the yards looking good. Kept the lights on timers. Things were getting better after all; best to keep property values up.

“So someone walking in and out of this house, caring tools and whatnot, wouldn’t have looked suspicious.” Price said, leading the way through the empty house. “Some of the neighbors have a vague recollection of a guy in overalls coming by. Three of them then described the yard serviceman, adding that they’d never seen him before and had a bad feeling about him. He’s been working here for three months. I’m letting his boss know he should expect some calls from this block next time.” He yawned. It was early in the morning, the sun was still coming up and the whole world seemed gray. They had turned every light in the house on, but it just made the shadows seem harsher.

“He checked out, by the way.” Beverley added from the floor, where she was scraping up dried blood from a small stain. “Alibe for the whole week, big family where everyone is posting photos to facebook about every ten minutes. They’re doing our job for us.”

She was working in the room where the carvings had taken place. There was no furniture, no carpet Will noted. Not a welcoming space.

Will started to take deep breaths, trying to imagine what it would be like to leave someone here for days, waiting for the right time to slowly strip away-

His phone range. Annoyed he glanced at it, Zeller. They’d left him back at Quantico, he was in charge of reviewing medical files for the day. Will answered. “Hello?”

“You said to call if there was anything interesting, how interesting is it if I find the name of someone we all know in the medical records?” It was hard to tell over the phone, but Will thought Zeller sounds scared.

“Very interesting.” Will walked out the room towards the front door, away from the distractions of the crime scene. “Who is it?”

“Hannibal.” Zeller said. “He was the ER doctor for Victim Number 12, a hunter in for an arrow wound.”

Will stopped. “Hannibal is connected to a victim?” It seemed wrong to have Hannibal there, in this messy and disgusting murder, Hannibal with his spotless kitchen and soft music. “Is he connected to any of the others?”

“I don’t think so, just this one. Look, it could be nothing. It’s probably nothing. But I thought you should know.” Zeller didn’t sound like it was nothing.

“I should, thank you, I’ll be back at the office soon.” Will hung up, forgetting to say goodbye. He turned back around, looking at the house, while on the phone he’d walked the length of the yard. He considered going back in, but no, he wasn’t going to be able to see anything here, not until he could get the sick idea of Hannibal as a murderer out of his head.

 

***  
The door opened again, Will shut his eyes as he heard it. Even through his eyelids the light hurt. It had been a day, a night, some amount of time too long since he’d last been visited. He’d voided himself, and the sharp smell had dissipated. He tried to figure out how long that would have taken, evaporation and the gentle waft of molecules, but everything was musty in his head. Footsteps up to his chair. He waited, chin slightly raised, and tried not to flinch when he felt a hand at his shoulder. A wet rag was thrust at his mouth and he opened, sucking from it the first water he’d had since he’d last been slapped by the man. He could feel more then hear the man move around the chair, but found it not nearly as important as getting every sweet drop from the rag. When what sounded like a pair of scissors started to remove the shirt off his back he did flinch slightly.

There was no pause.

The water now calming his thirst he wondered if he should say something. Mentally flipping through victims testimonies he’d read over the years he evaluated the effectiveness of what his limited words could do. So many people would scream at this point, beg, or cry. He could try to humanize himself, but if this was the monster he thought he it was there was nothing he could do, this creature didn’t understand people enough to relate to them. 

The rope around his neck loosened a bit, and Will took a few, beautiful, deep breaths. His back was almost bare now. He could feel fingertips tracing patterns on it, he tried to picture in his mind what it would look like. Curves, perhaps interlocking circles? Waves? 

The man got up and quietly left the room. Will realized he could add silence to the list of things that would not endear this man to free his victims. The rag was still in the mouth. And he wasn’t tied to the chair anymore. Slowly Will raised his arms and flexed his sore fingers, then tried to stand up. Instead he fell onto the ground. Too weak he realized, and settled for crawling to the wall and then following it around the space. No food, no water, door locked. Weakened by this small amount of activity he moved back to a corner, laid down flat, and slept.

***

Will reviewed the file again. Dr. Hannibal Lector, attending surgeon, had spent half an hour stabilizing the man's wound. He’d done all his paperwork, passed the man on, and never interacted with him again. Nothing in the interaction screamed that he was a serial killer, but then again neither had anyone else they’d flagged. He fit the Ripper’s profile Will realized, but it was such a broad profile so did 200 others. There was a chance Miriam had interacted with him though, a small chance. He couldn’t ignore this. He didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Will?” Alana was standing in the doorway of their messy conference room. There was stacks of papers on every table and three of the chairs, the two laptops blue screens glowed from the tables center where Will had shoved them. “Zeller called and asked me to help you review a file. He sounded nervous and hung up when I asked for more details.” She sat down in the chair across from Will. “What did he find.”

Will looked at her over the file, keeping it open but upright so she couldn’t read a word. “One of our victims went into the ER six months before he was killed. Arrow to the shoulder, he was bow hunting. A doctor, male, from Europe, treated him. This was their only interaction.”

Alana said “Well, he fit the profile as well as the rest do. What makes this a special call?”

Will swallowed, adam's apple bobbing. “His doctor was Hannibal.” and he passed her the folder.

Alana took the news far calmer than he had.

"You know, Hannibal and I were talking about Miriam a few weeks ago." Alana said as she flipped through the file. "When I was helping him get ready for that dinner party. We were reviewing TA candidates the week she went missing." She looked up at Will. "I don't remember him doing anything suspicious that week." She closed the file. "What would Miriam have done here, knowing he interacted with the victim, fit the profile, but having nothing else to go on?"

Will took the file back from her, turning it in his hands. "She was visiting everyone who fit the profile, she would have gone to his house."

"Do you think she had done that before she was killed?"

"No, maybe, we don't know who she had visited." Will dropped the file and got up to pace."She had a list, which disappeared with her body, but we don't know who was on it."

"Okay." Alana said. "Let's go."

"Go where?" Will ask, as Alana pulled out her phone and began texting.

"To see Hannibal, and ask him what information he can give us about our victim." She dropped her phone back in her purse. "I texted Jack where we're going, I freed up the rest of my day anyway to interview Miriam’s ex so I've got time."

Will stood rooted to the floor. "You want to go ask Hannibal, Hannibal, if he's the Ripper? This is insane."

Alana shrugged. "Didn't say it wasn't. But you need to think like Miriam, this is close to what she would have done." She leaned across the table and tapped the folder. "Will Graham knows Hannibal isn't a killer, but to Miriam? To her he's just another guy on her list. Let's try to see him through her eyes, even if it's just to rule him out."

Will still didn't move. "It might hurt him, having me act like he's a suspect."

"He's one of the most rational, thoughtful people I know." Alana was standing in the doorway now, holding it open. "He'll understand why we have to do this." She walked out, and Will followed.

***  
"As always a pleasure to see you both, come in." Hannibal said, a wide smile on his face as he waved them into his office. Alana returned the smile as she walked past, Will tried to weakly. His discomfort must of shone, Hannibal's face dimmed a bit and he rubbed Will's back as he passed. "You said you needed my input on a case? Is it about your skin thief?" 

Alana sat down on one of Hannibal's black chairs, and he took the one opposite her. Will, nervous walked around the room.

"Not today." Alana said. She looked at Will to continue, but he was staring at a painting on the wall. "This is a bit sensitive, and I hope we don't offend you, but we needed to question you about a Chesapeake Ripper victim you were connected with."

Hannibals brow rose in surprise. "I knew one of his victims? Alana, I would think I'd know if a friend or acquaintance was brutally murdered."

"No, it's not someone you were close too." Wills voice broke in from the other side of the room. "It's a man you spent half an hour with in a ER."

Hannibal looked curious. "So a patient of mine ended up as a Ripper victim?"

"Yes." Alana said. "It was over five years ago, and you've likely forgotten him."

"Maybe not." Hannibal said. "I have an excellent memory. Please, tell more about him."

"His name was Jeremy Olmstead." Will said, walking up to the square of carpet in the rooms center.

Hannibal looked embarrassed. "Maybe not such a good memory after all."

"It was a long time ago." Alana said soothingly.

"It was a slightly odd injury, arrow to the shoulder." Will added.

"That," Hannibal said, rising, "sounds more familiar. Five years ago you say? I kept notes, I could look at my journals and see if I recorded anything."

"That would be very helpful, thank you." Alana said.

"They are upstairs, a moment." Hannibal got up and went to the ladder behind Alana. 

Will leaned against the arm of Alana's chair, only comfortable in the space now that Hannibal had left it. She looked up at him. "So what do you see?" she whispered.

Will thought about his brief interaction, and tried to see what Miriam would have noticed. All he could see though was Hannibal making him breakfast to go this morning, Hannibal kissing him goodbye. Miriam wouldn’t have seen any of that. He had to push past it.

In his head Miriam opened her eyes. She saw a man, a man who fit her her profile. But it was hazy, he didn’t fit it well enough for an alarm bell or poorly enough to leave him. There was just a man shaped entity there, unresolved.

“Will?” Hannibal's voice startled Will from his reprieve, he turned his head quickly and Hannibal was standing next to them. “I found the file. I’m sorry there’s not much too it.”

“That will be fine.” Alana said, rising to take the folder. “Is it alright if we take it back to Quantico to make a copy?”

“Quite alright, I’m happy if any good comes of it.” Hannibal said. “Is there anything else I can offer to help?” 

“No.” Will said, quickly before Alana could ask anything. “We have everything we could need.”

***  
The room had been so quiet for so long Will didn’t entirely understand what he was hearing at first, or even that it was sound he was perceiving. It could be light finding a new way to express sharpness, or the touch of sandpaper over his lips. He muzzly tried to understand why everything was confused, but his brain kept circling back to water, and hunger. He tried to push himself up, but barely made it a few inches before falling back down on to the floor. Outside the noise, he was sure it was noise now, continued, thumps, he pressed his bare back against the wall and could feel vibrations. Someone outside was hitting the walls. That was new. He tried to put everything together. He was locked in this room, this room with no food, water, or light. And outside was someone hitting the walls. The tumping got stronger, shades of noise were getting louder. Slowly, almost dreamlike, he raised an arm and hit the wall back. A long pause, then two quick knocks. Will returned them and let his arm fall, he hoped they weren’t going to ask anything else of him.

He wasn’t prepared when the door opened with the light, he screwed up his eyes tight as footsteps rushed to him. Hands, covered in gloves, touched his face. Before he could move in protest he felt what little energy was left slipping, a sweet cloying scent filled his nostrils, strangely familiar, and he was left with darkness.

***

Walking down Hannibal’s stoop Alana turned to Will. “Does any part of you suspect Hannibal right now?” she asked.

Will shook his head. “No. But I’m worried that maybe I should. Maybe the Miriam I’m trying to build in my head should be screaming.”

As they got into the car Alana looked thoughtful. “Because Hannibal's innocent or because you can’t think like her yet?”

“Both, I think.” Will said. “Hannibal’s not a killer, but when I try to think like her I can’t pin down what she’d be looking for yet, she’s not alive in my head.” Will sighed. “I wish she was as easy to conjure up as the average murderer.”

Nodding, Alana asked, “Do you think this helped at all?”

“I feel calmer now.” Will said, running his hands over the journal. It was lovely, leather bound and color coded. “I guess given the community of doctors and range of victims it’s not really that odd that Hannibal would have interacted.”

“Yes.” Alana said, her mouth quirking up as she drove. “I thought you might see that better after talking to Hannibal and having him not run away screaming or going for a knife.”

Will had to chuckle at that. “We’ll add this to the victims profile, see if it gets us a clearing image of what might have attracted the Ripper to him.”

“And now, since I have you in the car, you’re coming with me to talk to Miriam's ex. Maybe talking to her instead of reading my notes will help with your mental reconstruction.” Alana turned the car onto the ramp as WIll started scanning for music.

***  
Hannibal sat in his desk chair and evaluated the risks. Will and Alana had made the same connection that Miriam had made years ago, but where she had needed to removed to ensure his safety it appeared his relationship with Will was going to protect him from further scrutiny. He was in their heads, and what they expected to see, caring friend, considerate lover, would help smooth his edges. While he always tried to portray something harmless, or if that was not possible at least not harmful, this was going to help him a great deal. The people around him were providing a further shield he could hide behind.

A moment like this deserved a glass of wine with a light lunch.

***

“Hello Ms. Emes.” Alana said to the wary looking women through the screen door. “I’m Alana Bloom, this is Will Graham. We’re here to ask you a few questions about Miriam Lass?”

Ms. Emes kept looking at the two of them. Alana quietly spoke up. “I believe her parents called you yesterday, you implied that you’d be open to seeing us. If that’s not the case we can go, but please consider letting us ask a few questions.”

Behind the screen Ms. Emes said, quietly, “Am I a suspect?”

“No!” Alana said, horrified, as Will said “Should you be?”

“Will,” Alana hissed before turning back towards Ms. Emes. “No, you’re not. This is one of those frustrating cases where we know who the killer is, we just don’t know where he’s hiding. Miriam did though, we’re sure it’s the last thing she figured out before he killed her. We’re trying to understand what she was thinking before she was killed.”

Ms. Emes nodded, and opened the screen. “I always used to look at her and say ‘You’re thinking about dinner right now, aren’t you?’ and she’d laugh and say ‘Would you make some soup if I ran out and bought bread’. And then there were days I’d come up behind her and give her a hug, and when she asked why I’d say she should stop thinking about her cases. I didn’t know what she was thinking all of the time, but I could read her well enough for the big things.”

“Like wanting soup?” Alana asked as she walked in through the open door.

“Like wanting something warm.” Ms. Emes herded them gently into the living room, where Alana sat gracefully on a couch and Will nervously joined her. “We were together for three years, and when we broke up all she had to do was look at me and I knew she was going to break my heart.”

“That’s interesting, no one else has described her as emoting her feelings, it sounded like she spent effort trying to control how others saw her.” Will said. “She didn’t do that around you, did she?”

Ms. Emes smiled. “She tried when we first met, she was very distant and careful with herself. But we were together for years, and really in those first months as she realized I liked her, really liked her, she realized that she didn’t need to do anything but be herself. She was a wonderful person, smart and funny and I wanted nothing more in the world some days then to listen to her talk about what made her happy.”

“What made her happy?” Alana asked.

“Saving the world by being the cleverest person in the room.” Ms. Emes looked out the window now. “Winning a fight.”

Now that she was looking out the window Will took a long look at Ms. Emes. Late thirties, African American, thin in a way that spoke to exercises and not diet. Her head was shaved and her clothing looked expensive, he’d have to check with Alana about this, but it all looked expensive to him. She turned back to face them and he fixed his eyes on the painting behind her couch, some modern art thing with swirling colors.

“But you too didn’t fight much, did you?” Alana was asking questions in her kind voice Will realized, the one she used as if she was guiding them through a minefield. He’d heard that tone often when they’d first met, not so much anymore.

“No, almost never. I’ve screwed up enough relationships by not saying what I wanted, so when there was a problem I’d tell her. She, well, she wasn’t a people pleaser, but she loved me enough to try and work anything out.”

“Why did it end then?” and Will winced at the sound of his own voice, it sounded jaring in this quiet conversation between women.

“She said she felt like being with me was destroying who she wanted to be.” Ms. Emes said this looking at Alana, who leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “One day she came home, and told me she’d thought about me all day, and she loved me, and if she was with me she’d never be the person she’d dreamed of all her life, she’d be good but not amazing, and she had to leave. That with me she’d be content, happy, and that wasn’t enough.”

“What did she really mean by that?” Alana asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“She meant that she wanted something to fight against. And I was all give. She thrived in competitiveness, she blossomed when she had a secret to hide from the world. Secrets were what she wanted, and with me there was none. I think if she could have had an affair she would have, but she wasn’t the sort of person to want to hurt me that way. But she was smart, and clever, and knew that pain would drive her harder than anything else. And she needed that pain to get herself to the top.”

Alana was nodding. “You were waiting for her to come back, weren’t you? When she ran out of walls to climb.”

“She would have. She would have come back to me, and our quiet little life. We get tired of fighting all the time, she would have eventually been ready to accept peace. I wasn’t going to wait forever, but I thought, maybe it won’t take her too long. But then she was dead.”

Will felt he could contribute again. “Her death might be the key to finding the man who killed her, and so many others. She’d like that, being a key in a murder case?”

Ms. Emes nodded. “It would have made her glow.”

After that there wasn’t anything more they needed to ask. Alana thanked her for dredging up painful memories, and Will took her hand and said that she was helping with the investigation, thank you. She just nodded and showed them the door.

As soon as Alana backed the car out of the driveway Will asked “Why did she think she was being investigated?”

“She the prime suspect at first, she had no alibi. I don’t think the cops were particularly kind to her.”

“You were.” Will pointed out.

“I’m kind to everyone.” Alana said simply. “But also I thought she might be able to help you. Did she?”

“Yes.” Will said. “I think Miriam was more honest with her then with her family, but that honesty eventually is what drove her away. She wasn’t going to go back to her.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Miriam was manipulative, not always because she wanted things out of people but because it was fun. That relationship right there? That wouldn’t have been fun anymore.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“Miriam wasn’t always a nice person.” Will sounded so sad that Alana glanced away from the road, Will had his face in his hands. He took in a deep breath. “I think I need a break from this, first Hannibal popping up and this, this whole mess. Can we work on this in a few days? And go back to the psychopath cutting triangles in peoples skin tomorrow?”

“Of course Will.” She drove in silence for a few minutes while Will calmed himself down. Then, in her gentle minefield voice, she asked “Can you tell me what triggered you?”

Will looked straight ahead. “I’m just thinking about everything she lost.”

As she drove Alana wondered if he meant Miriam or Ms. Emes. She didn’t ask.

***

Hannibal looked down at Will. The man was filthy, the room rank with the smell of his waste and sweat. No blood though, he’d managed to get here before that. Without thinking about it he realized he’d started to run his plastic covered hand through Will's oily hair. Best not to do that. Hannibal forced himself to stand up and step away from Will. It was harder than it should have been, the desire to lift Will up, take him back to their home, his home, it was his home, and clean him was strong. It was equal in fact to desire to destroy the man who had done this to his Will.

As a safety precaution Hannibal had installed tracking software on Will’s phone month ago. Such a simple thing, Will had never noticed. Hannibal rarely had a reason to use it unless he was preparing food and wanted something to be on the table when Will was a few blocks away, or needed to have processed the meat without an audience. Really, he didn’t entirely understand why the FBI didn’t do the same. When Will went missing Hannibal had a record of where Will was, and luckily for them this artist who had taken him had done something breathtakingly stupid. Will was hidden in an apartment he had used before. There was files all over his study marked on this case, it had taken him one evening to figure this out. After that he just needed to spend a few nights watching, eliminating apartment blocks one by one until he knew where Will had to be. An adamonded apartment, clean, empty, with a cheap lock on the outside door and this room inside triple locked and reinforced. Clever, but to reuse a killing area? Sloppy. Stupid. He’d killed for less. He’d love to kill for this.

Will was still in the corner. His breathing was slow, but not labored. He needed a shower, food. Hannibal thought of the broth he could make, a light soup with crackers. Simple meals, easy to digest foods, and by the end of the week some more complexe sauces. 

Except he couldn’t take Will back with him. Not yet. He’d always been careful, so careful, and walking into a crime scene, carrying out the victim to disappear him and then coming back to destroy the perpetrator didn’t speak to being careful.

Even as he resigned himself to leaving Will in this terrible place his mind was whispering songs to him as what the future could be if he carried Will out in his arms. The bedroom he’d put Will in while he recovered, perhaps a bit drugged, enough that he wouldn’t fight to see his friends. Nursing him back to health slowly, making him fight for every gain. And then, when Will was finally up to walking out of the suite, the door would be locked. He’d come to him that evening, his Will would be so confused and ask why. Hannibal could leave him with a few papers, and Will would read of his disappearance. He could even print a few articles out from that yellow journalist for him to read. There would be a camera of course, quiet and unobtrusive in the corner, so he could watch Will understand what was happening. It would be beautiful, that moment when Will understood that he was still a prisoner, abit in a much nicer cell. He couldn’t figure out what would happen then though, would Will attack him? Play along? Accept his fate? Perhaps in time Will and he could have still have that true partnership he was coaxing him towards, or maybe he’d fight him and enjoy Will’s company one last time on the table, shared with those who loved him too. There was so many options, too tantalizing. But no, not now, if he rushed this it could all fall apart. For now he needed to get away from here, and quietly be the guiding hand the lead the FBI to getting Will back to a soft bed and light foods. 

He turned back to his Will lying on the ground, took his pulse out of habitat, the drug was safe on Will, he’d drugged the man casually in his sleep a few times now just to practice, and ran his gloved hand over the familiar curves of his cheeks. “Sleep well Will.” He said, softly as if they were in bed together. “You’ll be back in my care soon.”

Hannibal locked the door behind himself and drove home. Back at the office he flipped through the many, many papers until he found the one with the address of the old crime scenes on them, the one with the address the currently held Will.

***

“The biggest problem is we have so few leads.” Jack said as he strode down the hallway. Behind him Will tried to keep up while flipping through photos. 

“I’d say your biggest problem is that he’s very good at what he does.” Will said absentmindedly and almost ran in Jack’s back as the man turned to glare at him.

“The victims accounts are all attached, I’m sending you home with the files. The team wants to go over the forensics with you before you read everything.” Jack opened the door and ushered Will into the lab. 

Price looked up from the table where he had spread out something and was peering through a magnifying glass on a mount. “Hello! If either of you need a skin graft you’ve come to the right place!”

Will walked over to the table, which was covered in neat skin triangles. Price had arranged them from small to large, the littlest would have fit on his fingertip, the largest the span of his hand. 

“He was just throwing them on the ground, we had a scattering of skin all around his cutting chair. I’m comparing the skin we found to the photo’s of the victim's arm.” Price pointed to the photo’s of the arm he had left on a neighboring table. “We have 54 triangles missing from his arm, guess how many on this table.”

“Price, stop making people play the guess how many skin triangles game, this isn’t a jar of jelly beans.” Zeller said as he walked over to join them.

“Please, you're just mad you were off by so many.”

“54.” Will said. “Not a single one is going to be missing.

Price looked impressed. “Not one.”

“There was also some blood soaked rags thrown on the floor, all from the victim. You’d think anyone working with that many sharp instruments would knick himself, but no dice.” Zeller added, looking at the skin on the table. “And the victims, while all delirious and not exactly the best witness, haven’t mentioned any activity that sounds like trophy collection.”

“So we’ve got an unusual type of criminal.” Jack said. “One that likes to hurt but not kill, leaves a definite mark but doesn’t take trophies, and can somehow interact with his victims for days on end without letting them know anything about himself other than that he’s male.”

“And we’re sure he’s male?” Will asked.

“No doubt. He spoke to everyone, and some people saw his body outlined when he joined them in the room he was keeping them in.”

“We’re also certain he’s killed at least three people in Chicago now.” Beverly said, joining them at the table holding a manila folder. “I just got off the phone with the special cases detective out there in the city, he was telling me about some badly burned bodies they found in a pile. Two were down to teeth and ash, but the fire was put out when the third body was only half consumed. Here, take a look.”

Will took the offered photo from her hand. The body had been photographed in a morgue, the stainless steel table and white floor instantly recognizable. The black stumps of the legs stood out in contrast, the fire had taken the feet, halfway up the to the knee there was just blackened bone with chunks of flesh seared on. As his eyes traveled up the body there was more flesh left, it was blackened up to the waist and then, almost as if a line had been drawn, looked like a completely normal corpse above mid torso. 

Too normal, in fact. Will turned to Beverly. “What makes him one of our victims?”

Wordlessly she handed him the next photo. The corpse had been flipped over. 

His back was in tatters. It looked like he had been whipped to death, bloody streaks too deep to survive. There was almost no skin left, what was had torn. 

“Looking at this it doesn’t look like our guy yet, just a mass of cuts and skin removal. But they got their artist to try and draw what it looked like fresh, they were trying to figure out how he was doing this. He’s his illustration.” And she handed Will another paper from her folder.

It a drawing done in simple black and white. A hazy outline of the mans back, dashed line where the artist was filling in from assumptions, and solid lines where the skin was telling the story. It looked like a snowflake cut from a square of paper. Diamonds and sharp edges. A pattern he was trying to repeat in each quadrant. It would have been tricky.

“Next time Beverly, just hand the guy the whole folder.” Zeller said. She made a rude gesture back.

“It’s like looking at an oil painting of an artist who can see so clearly what he want to paint in his head, but his skills can’t match it.” Will had laid out the sketch and this photo of the victims back on the edge of the skin table and was looking back and forth. “He probably saw what he wanted to make a thousand times when he closed his eyes, but when he tried he just got this ugly thing.” Will turned to Beverly. “The victim didn’t die from the skin removal process, did he?”

She shook her head. “Poison. Fast acting, rubbed into the wounds. Considering the body was mangled as it was and then lit on fire we’re lucky they noticed this at all.”

Will stared off in the distance. The room seemed far away, even Beverly’s voice came from far off. “So he killed them. He captured them, he worked, and when the art didn’t hit his standard he killed them and tried to burn the bodies.” He looked down now at the body in front of him, ugly where it should have been beautiful, his useless hands not skilled enough to bring his work to life. He needed to destroy this. Like an artist balling up a piece of paper. “These aren’t people, they’re canaveses. Why take a trophies, the work itself is what needs to be left, it’s all I needs. I need to create something, something beautiful. That’s enough. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t last, it existed for a few brief moments they are shuttering under my knife.”

Will realized he was alone at the table. For a moment he wondered if this was vivid dream, was he asleep in Hannibals office? He turned around and saw the whole team had stepped back, and was looking at him nervously. Will found himself wishing it was a dream.

Jack recovered first. He stepped up and rejoined Will at the table. “So how does knowing that help us catch him?”

“He’s an artist, artists want their work to be seen. Beverly, are there more sketches of the victim's wounds?” Will asked.

The whole team was standing with him now. “No.” Beverly said. “But there can be, there’s no reason we can’t get the crime scene illustrator artists together and have them sketch out what he’s done to these people.”

Will nodded. “Good. Once we get them we’ll need to show them to someone who understands artistic development better than me. They might be able to see influences, changes in skill, that I can’t.”

“Shouldn’t we look at how the skin removal is changing too?” Zeller asked.

“Yes, but a side effect of working for the FBI is that I know more people who can remove a chunk of skin then understand art.” Will said.

Jack made slightly pained face at that. “I’ll talk to someone in the morgue, see if anyone down there can help.”

“I think I’d like to go home now.” Will said softly. “Beverly, can you email me the sketches once you get them? And we need to find an artist.”

***  
Alana had elected to stay in the van with Hannibal. Through the open door she could hear Jack giving the team orders. Snow swirled into the van, and she watched it in the light from the street lamp. She shivered a bit.

“Do you want the door closed?” Hannibal asked, quietly.

“No.” Alana whispered back. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“As do I.” Hannibal said. “But here, take this.” He passed her his gloves.

As Alana took them she looked at Hannibal. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. They all looked like that. When Will first went missing the team had gone into overdrive, trying to trace his every movement over the last few days. It hadn’t done any good, between the skin thief and the Ripper Will had been everywhere. His work with Alana ment she was able to take Jake to every interviewee, every street they had been on for the case. Poor Ms. Emes, since she and Will had interviewed her hours before he’d disappeared she’d been interrogated again. It had lead to nothing. Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian had tracked the skin thief angle, pouring over clues and looking for the connections they needed Will’s brain to make. And then Hannibal…

Hannibal shouldn’t have been there at all. They should have interviewed him, asked a few questions, and then updated him as needed. They hadn’t. He had been the one to call Alana, pleasant on that first night before they knew Will was missing, just a call to ask her to tell Will to turn his phone on, and to gently chide him that he was suppose to call if he was going to be late, dinner was getting cold.

Alana’s blood had dropped from her veins, and somehow Hannibal had heard in her silence that Will had gone missing.

Since then he’d been at the lab every morning and evening. He was doing what he always did, bringing food and trying to unobtrusively help. It seemed all anyone had to do was wonder out loud what Will’s shoe size was to compare prints and Hannibal would be there, knowing the size and offering to bring in a pair the next day. Or that evening. It was no secret now that they were together, no one had even asked when Hannibal had shown up the first morning with muffins for the team and sat quietly in a conference room, looking at photos of people they thought might be involved.

Nothing had come of his work at Quantico, or any of their efforts. But he had gone through Will’s work he’d brought home, and came in that morning with a file. Would this mean anything? he’d asked her, hope not yet dead but dying. Will had been gone five days. It was probably nothing, she told him. No, nothing is what we have, Hannibal had said firmly, this must be something. And then she had spoken to Jack, who talked to the team, who argued that no one was stupid enough to reuse the same crime scene, and then Jack glared and they had shut up and now Jack and his team were heading in. Hannibal had been calling in all day, and when she told him they were going in he showed up, waiting in the vehicle pool, jacket held in his arms. No one could turn him away. Alana wondered how he was restraining himself to sitting in the van with her, instead of running in with Jack. She wondered if he was scared they wouldn't find Will, or if it was fear of finding what was left of him.

“Alana, Dr. Lecter, are you there?” Beverly’s voice crackled over the radio. “We finally found the right keys, we’re heading in. You can see the entrance from there clearly, right?”

Alana looked out the open door. The snow was falling lightly, she could see the four figures standing at the apartment entrance. “Yes, we can see you.”

“Great. We’re leaving Jimmy to guard the door. If anything happens to him holler.” Three figures went inside, flashlights briefly illuminating an entrance way before disappearing. Jimmy moved to the doorway, out of the snow. Beside her Hannibal had shut his eyes. His head was bowed, his shoulders hunched. Alana watched him for a moment, then returned her eyes to Jimmy.

“Okay, so far this place is empty. We’re opening all the doors, kitchen is empty, bathroom is empty, bedroom 1 empty, hang on, Zeller says bedroom 2 is locked.” The walkie clicked off a second, then back on. “Okay, Zeller is trying all the keys. Guys, this lock may be new, nothing even fits. Alana, can you look in the back of the van for the door buster? We may ne- JACK STOP!” there was the sound of splintering wood and a male voice swearing. Beverly came back then. “Holy shit, Jack just broke the door-” Alana and Hannibal were both standing up then, Alana focusing everything on staring at Jimmy, she needed to keep watch, and Hannibal- “Will’s here, he’s breathing” and Hannibal was out of the van, running towards the building. Alana gripped the van door frame with her left hand, with her right she called it in. In front of her Hannibal had reached the entrance, Jimmy stood aside as Hannibal raced past him. Over the walkie Beverly was saying “I think he’s undamaged, looks malnourished and this room is terrible, but he’s overall okay, Alana call it in, whoa, Dr. Lecter be careful with him!”

Hannibal reappeared at the entrance, carrying Will in his arms. Jimmy looked like he was saying something but Hannibal stepped by, his long legs quickly carrying Will through the snowy street to the van. Alana was already clearing off a seat for Will to be laid on, she was taking off her coat and when Hannibal laid him down she covered Will with it like a blanket. Hannibal was already striping off his coat and added it over hers. She watched as Hannibal cupped Will’s face with a hand, and said only “Will”

Will stirred a little and tried to open his eyes. “It’s alright Will, I have you now, you’re safe.” Hannibals voice sounded like it was going to break, and he gently stroked Will’s cheek as he spoke. “Stay asleep, just know you are safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Will’s face softened, and he leaned into Hannibals hand. Alana tuned and saw the whole team standing outside the van, staring at Will and Hannibal. Quietly she moved outside to join them.

“He didn’t look that good when we found him.” Zeller said softly. “He was lying in a corner, his shirt had been cut off, I don’t think he’s eaten in days. How long until the EMT’s get here?”

“When you said you found him I called, less than five minutes.” Alana said.

“Good.” Jack turned back towards the apartment. “That will give us time. Price, Zeller, get ready to examine the crime scene. Katz, you armed?”

“Yes sir.”

“Gun out, we’re going back in to make certain it’s empty. Alana, get Will and Hannibal set up with the EMT’s then join us inside. I need to know what was happening in there.”

As he spoke the red flashing lights on an ambulance reflected off the snow, and the whine of siren pierced their quiet voices. Hannibal poked his head out of the van, one hand still touching Will lightly. He didn’t leave Will’s side until the EMT’s gently shouldered into the van. Jack went to to him as he stood outside, watching as Will was moved on the stretcher.

“You broke down the door.” Hannibal said at last. 

“I thought Will shouldn’t have to wait.” Jack had his hands in his pockets, Hannibal was holding his coat in hands.

“Thank you Jack.” Hannibal said. “I know that word is insufficient, and at a later time I will properly thank you, but right now it is all I have to give.” He turned, and looked Jack in the eyes. “Thank you for saving him.” The stretcher was being loaded into the ambulance, and Hannibal strood over, joining Will in the back. Jack watched them go, then turned back to his team. They were getting equipment out, looking ready to get to work. Alana was briefing the police, Jack decided to leave her to it and joined Katz.

“Hey boss, I’m armed, I’ve got Jimmy here on the walkie for when it’s clear, and Zeller is getting all the sample bags prelabeled. We’re ready to go when you are.” Beverly said.

“Good. I think Alana has the police cornering off the apartment, I’m going to grab a few guys as back up when we go in. Any questions?”

“Did they say anything about Will?” Beverley asked.

“He’s dehydrated, starving, and delirious.” Alana answered, starling Jack who hadn’t heard her walk up behind him. She gave him a weak smile. “Hannibal just texted from the ambulance. Will woke up, tried to give Hannibal details about his kidnapper, definitely the skin thief.”

“We’re lucky it wasn’t the ripper.” Jack said. “If he’d gotten Will he’d be in pieces by now.”

“I know.” Alana said.

“How much trouble exactly are we going to get in for letting Dr. Lecter in the crime scene?” Zeller poked his head out of the van and asked. 

Jack snorted. “You saw him charge in there, you think you could have stopped him?”

Zeller grinned. “Nope. It’s funny, somehow I’ve always thought of Dr. Lecter as this calm academic. Seeing him run in there was like watching what you thought was a deer and realizing it’s a lion.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow at Zeller. “Did you feel similarly about me breaking down the door?”

“Ha!” Jimmy exclaimed. “Please, we all know you’re a force of nature.”

Jack laughed, and for the first time that night Alana did too.

***

Will opened his eyes slowly. Everything felt fantastic, the bed he was laying on, the blanket keeping him warm, and he closed his eyes again just to focus on how clean he felt. A gentle squeeze on his hand brought him back, and he turned his head to see at Hannibal sitting next to him. “Hi.” he said, and his voice was raspy with disuse. “You found me?”

“Jack found you.” Hannibal said, and his voice sounded a little rough too. “He just took me along to do the heavy lifting.” Will felt the stirring of memory at that, and Hannibal continued. “Although not very heavy, I’ll have to start fattening you up again.”

Will tried to smile.”Something to look forward too.” As he faded back away he could feel Hannibal lay a bristly kiss on his cheek.

The next time he came too he felt more alert, he could hear the comforting murmur of a woman's voice. He opened his eyes and got a good look at his room, not a familiar one, and it’s occupants, Alana and Abigail. Alana was reading to them both. 

“When the pale moon fingers reached over the young dog in the back kitchen he stirred in his uneasy sleep, then sat upright-”

“Dr. Bloom, he’s awake!” Abigail jumped up and ran to the bed, stopping just short of hugging Will, instead crossing her arms over her chest. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Will said back. “Alana, are you reading the Incredible Journey?”

She looked a little bashful. “They said I couldn’t bring in any dogs, figured this was the next best thing.”

“It is.” Will said, and looked at Abigail's face. “I’m alright.”

“I’m glad.” she said, and seemed almost surprised to say it. “I’m going to go get the nurse, they want to know when you wake up.” She almost ran out of the room.

“Progress.” Alana said, nodding towards Abigail. “When you went missing she first refused to talk about it, then tried to sneak out to help look for you. We had to make Hannibal drive her back. She insisted on coming today, even though I told her you were mostly going to sleep.”

Will nodded, he was already tired. “I was barely awake two minutes last time, I’m going to try for five now.” 

Alana sat at the chair by his head and took his hand. “I know, Hannibal told me when we showed up. We also sent him home, I don’t think he’s slept, or showered, or shaved since the day we found you.”

The nurses came in then, and Will found himself the center of too much attention.

***  
Hannibal felt much better having cleaned up. There was just something civilizing about wearing proper clothing, he felt like the person he wanted to be perceived as. Of course he wasn’t able to wear his suit for long, the work he had planned tonight was much too smokey and he would risk ruining a good suit, no matter how much he wanted to wear it.

It surprised him that he wanted to wear it so much. It also surprised him how much he’d rather be at the hospital, sitting by Will’s bedside. He looked so devoted there, even though he knew he didn’t need to be more devoted than he was. He’d charged in, carried Will from danger, slept in that horrible chair overnight, he had ticked all the devoted lover boxes. There was no need to go back, he told himself firmly as he walked out to the abandoned barn. 

It was empty, out here in Wolf Trap. No other lights could even be seen. He’d fed Will’s dogs on the way over, an excellent excuse if anyone noticed he was out here. But no one ever would. The barn was in that strange no man's land between two properties, both with beautiful old house and no one with interest or need to farm. If asked the owners would likely argue the barn, with it’s sagging roof and tetanus hazards of equipment belonged to the other. It suited Hannibals purpose just fine.

He entered, opening the door no more than the slit he needed, shining his flashlight in front of him. Mr. Friedman flinched away from the light, but not much. The ropes tying him to the stake had left him practically immobile. Seeing no change from yesterday to his victim Hannibal flipped on the lights he’d brought in earlier this week, and stepped into an old stall to change. He’d left some terrible thrift store clothes in there, it pained him to wear them but it wasn’t worth destroying something beautiful. His suit sealed in a bag he stepped back out.

Mr. Friedman moaned at him, really the only sound he could make with that gag in his mouth. Hannibal ignored it, instead pulling back the cover of the pit. The glow from the banked coals shimmered, and he moved back from the blast of heat. He checked the thermometer. 250 degrees. Good, coals were ready.

Barbecue wasn’t a method of cooking he was familiar with. It had always seemed a bit too simplistic. But it was an American tradition, and he was always interested in learning more about food.

The stake he’d tied Mr. Freiman to was connected to pullies, and by turning the wheel he was able to hoist the man up horizontal, then walked over to the now wiggling and moaning man. He ignored the sounds and attempts to struggle as he methodically cut off all clothing, working out any bit held in place by the chains. The gag was going to have to stay, he didn’t want to listen to screams, but he’s made certain it was non toxic and was unlikely to affect the flavor when it burned. The man was then to be hosed off and cleaned, a rather disgusting task, but necessary. He then doused the man in the sauce. He’d made a few buckets worth, really cooking anything that required quarts of sauce seemed excessive but there was so much meat here. He injected some flavoring fluids too. Once Mt. Friedman was prepared he went back to the pulley system and hoisted him over the pit. Face down, staring into the coals.

Hannibal pulled up a chair and watched for a while. Roosting, at least roosting correctly, was a slow process and one he hadn’t had the chance to observe before. Occasional he got up to add more sauce, and check the internal temperature of the meat. After a few hours Mr. Friedman was definitely dead, he no longer flinched when the meat thermometer went in. It took four hours for the first side to cook, and three for the second. By then it was morning, Hannibal called into the hospital, explaining his car troubles out in Wolf Trap and how it would be a few more hours. He certainly hoped it was going to be a good enough meal to be worth this long of a cook time. 

***

When Will opened his eyes the third time he knew he was doing better, he could feel how bad he was. His mouth was dry, his body ached, and he just wanted to be back asleep. The light outside was bright, early afternoon? He gave a little moan and closed his eyes. A small sounds from the bedside rosed him again.

“Will? Are you thirsty? Here, drink.”

Will opened his eyes to see Hannibal offering him a straw. He took a few sips, and said “Did you stay all night again?”

Hannibal looked a bit guilty. “No, Alana and Abigail shoed me out yesterday like an errant kitten, and I decided to spend the evening and this morning resting up. I missed you.” The last was said as he bent down to give Will a little kiss. Will found himself reaching out to pull Hannibal closer. The larger man tried to pull away, murmuring about Will being weak, but Will insisted and Hannibal acquiesced, nugging Will to the side until he could lie next to him. The length of Hannibal pressed against him was warm and comforting, Will pressed into him and Hannibal rested his chin on the top of Wills head, holding him tight. “I didn’t know if we were going to get you back.” he said softly. “I spent the last week frightened that having found such happiness with you I was going to lose it all.”

Will kissed the nearest skin, Hannibals neck. “I knew you’d all find me.” he said, voice barely above a whisper. He kissed Hannibal again. “I didn’t expect you to rush in and carry me out, very bold Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal chuckled, a roll the shook his body. “I may have been a bit caught up in the moment.”

“Hey Hannibal, Jack wants-whoops, sorry boys!” Beverly said as she stopped in the doorway and flung a hand over her eyes. “Sorry! I didn’t see anything!” She started to back out, eyes still covered.

With more dignity than should be possible Hannibal extracted himself from Will’s bed, pressing one more kiss to his lips. “Nonsense Mrs. Katz, there was nothing inappropriate to see. What can I do for you?”

Sheepishly Beverly reentered the room, giving Will a small wave. “Good to see you awake. The team’s going to want to stop by soon.” Will nodded at her, and then she turned her attention to Hannibal. “The FBI needs to interview you about the rescue, we put you off til last but they are getting insistent.”

Hannibal straightened his cuffs and smoothed his vest. “I would expect nothing less of them. Are they still in the break room at the end of the hall?”

“Yup, just head on in, I’ll keep Will company.” She pulled up a chair to the other side of Will’s bed as Hannibal gave him one more kiss and left the room. As soon as they were alone she gave Will a wicked grin. “So, you like em’ tall, handsome, and able to carry you princess style out of a building?”

Will looked at her, seeing the happiness for him on her face. “Doesn’t everyone?” he said, finding the bed controls and putting himself into a sitting position.

Beverly laughed. “Can’t argue with you there. How much has he told you about his daring rescue?”

“Nothing more than what I remember.”

“Did you remember that Jack broke the door down?” Beverly said in a voice filled with awe.

“With what?” Will asked.

“HIs shoulder.”

“He must have been terrified for me.” Will said quietly.

Beverly nodded. “They don’t make cards for that sort of thing, Jimmy’s been looking online. Untapped market, that’s what I say.”

Something nagging at Will’s thoughts came to the fore front of his mind. “How did you find the apartment?”

“We, well, we didn’t. Hannibal was going through your notes and found a sheet of past crime scenes for that asshole, said you'd left that one on top and it looked more important and then hounded everyone until we agreed to go out to check. Technically you solved it for us, again.”

Will thought back to the messy pile of files he’d left lying around Hannibal’s place. “My memory is not the best right now.” Will looked up at the ceiling. “I remember thinking that it must be difficult to find places, and wondered if he would reuse them, but I didn’t think it was even that possible. I was walking around looking at his past spaces, trying to find a pattern, when I was jumped. My last clear memory before being taken is looking through the windows from outside, and having a friendly voice ask me if he could help right before being knocked out.” He glanced at Beverly. “Do you want to take notes, make this my official statement?” She shook her head no, Will felt a bit relieved. It felt good to talk about it, but he didn’t feel like rehashing every horrible moment yet. “The past few days are such a misery in my mind. I think we all got lucky there. Mostly me, I’m the lucky one. Is the skin thief in custody?”

Beverly made a face. “No. We have a name, Barry Friedman, and id photos, but he slipped out of our fingers. From security cameras in the neighborhood we don’t think he’d been there for 38 hours before we found you, he might have gotten nervous and ran.”

“38 hours, his last visit was brief, just a quick trip inside and then I was out like a light.” Will remembered, barely, the hand over his mouth. “Some drug, quickly inhaled, smelled sweet.”

“Really? That’s different, he wasn’t drugging his other victims.” Beverly said thoughtfully. “I wonder if he was spooked and planning on moving you.” She looked like she wanted to say more, then looked at Will. “Yeah, you’re drained. No more questions for you today. Want me to sneak you a sandwich?” Her eyes lite up. “You would not believe what Hannibal brought the team as a thank you for saving his snuggle bunny!”

“Something with 17 courses and you can’t pronounce half of them, but they all taste amazing?” Will guessed.

“Barbecue pork sandwiches.” She said like she had seen the fields of heaven.

Will’s mouth fell open. “Hannibal brought people barbeque?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “He explained it, some fancy butcher, organic pig, cooked over 11 hours, it may be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. The meat, the sauce, it’s amazing. And the skin.“ She moaned extravently. “The skin is this crispy crunchy flavor explosion, it was stripped off the pig and crumpled up in the meat, I’ve never had anything like it.”

“I’m glad it was so appreciated.” Hannibal’s rich warm voice came from the doorway. 

“It is, it really really is.” Beverly said, then “Wait, there is no way you’re done with being interviewed yet.”

“I haven’t started, when I got there they were still talking to Jack. I left when the shouting started.”

“Jack or the interviewer?”

“Jack.”

“It won’t be long then, I was just offering to see if there was any food left for Will.”

Hannibal shook his head. “Will has been starved for nearly a week. Rich food like that would not be pleasant for him. However when I was obtaining the meat for you I also saved the bones, there will be a rich broth in Will’s future.”

Will smiled up at Hannibal, but Beverly twisted her mouth. “I don’t think you realize how good that pork tasted, can’t Will just have a bite?” she whined.

Hannibal laughed. “Not today, Mrs. Katz. But rest assured, I’m certain a second opportunity for barbecued pork will arrive. And when it does there will be enough to share.”

***  
Jack stood over Will as he slept. Will of the frightening mind, Will with the nervous disposition. Will who had just been kidnapped and held against his will, slowly starved and drugged, knowing he was going to be skinned alive. And if Jack hadn't sent him out there this would have never happened. Lectures were rarely subject to that.

Jack felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, and turned with a start. 

"Does it hurt?" Dr. Lecter said, and for a moment Jack had no idea how to answer that question. "Your shoulder." Dr. Lecter gestured at it. "I would think it's a bit bruised."

Bella had seen it last night, gasped, and turned away, returning with ice packs.

"A bit." Jack allowed. 

They both stood staring down at a sleeping Will. Lector spoke again. "You're not forcing him, Dr.Crawford. He choose this life."

"He chose because I asked him to choose."

"It was still his choice to make. He may be tortured by what he does, yet he still gets up every morning and goes out."

"And a drug addict knows he's going to die, but still takes another hit." Jack turned his back on Will and faced Lector. Lector looked back at him with a calm, flat face. It must be the years of psychiatry, Jack thought, that’s letting him stay this calm. I feel like screaming. “It’s my job to protect him from what we hunt, and this week? I failed. I failed, and he could have died. The fact that he’s found came down to you finding a sheet of paper.” The odds were staggering to him. “We got lucky, and next time? We might not.” Jack remember going to Miriam's family, seeing her mother's face, her girlfriends, and seeing in those faces the desire that he suffer in her place. Looking in to Hannibal’s eyes all he could see was concern.

“I seems to me that very often your cases are solved by some chance piece of paper, or an offhand statement. Your team, Will included, are very skilled at listening for that little key that lets the truth slip. I would not concern yourself too deeply with what-ifs, with the future. Today Will is safe, today we all are are here. And I am going to take him home, where he will continue to be safe.” Hannibal touched Jack’s shoulders lightly. “As for the future, we know what Will is, what he is capable of. He knows what he can do for the world, even if you have never walked into his classroom he would still be extraordinary. Such a mind, such empathy, it attracts attention. If you hadn’t walked in that day someone else would have, and they might not be so caring that they would have a bruised shoulder right now. Go home, Jack. Rest. Will may come to hurt, but you never abandoned him.”

“You always have such good advice, Dr. Lecter.” Jack said, and the two left the room.

***

“Yes, he does.” Will agreed quietly. As he lied in bed in the now empty room he thought about how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Hannibal, and how he’d almost lost the chance thanks to one killer getting a lucky break. He needed to escape this. He needed to catch the Ripper so he could walk away.

Will found his mind wandering back to the day he was sitting in Hannibals office trying to to see Hannibal, the man who watched over him while he slept and carried him out of harms way, as a killer. He couldn’t do it then, and he definitely couldn’t do it now. That, he realized, should be his Miriam test. If he could use her to evaluate Hannibal, see him objectively, then he would know she existed fully enough in his mind to see what he couldn’t. Lying in the bed he hated himself, just a moment, as he realized compartmentalizing Hannibal into the potential killer category was going to be his test. But Hannibal would understand, that Will need to put this distance between what he knew and how he needed to see the world to catch this killer. And that once Will caught him their lives together would be that much richer.

Mind at peace Will drifted back to sleep.

***  
Part 3  
***

Will sat down in Alana’s empty office. It wasn’t the best place for him to work but he wasn’t currently a consulting member of the FBI. Jack had taken his conference room keys, and Will knew the man had told the staff to alert him if Will was staying late in his classroom. Before he’d have just taken the files home, or to Hannibal’s, but he needed the separation now, between home and this. He needed somewhere safe, but he also needed to work. Alana had quietly slipped him her keys when he approached her this week, and just asked him not to make a mess of her system. He’d taken her pile of papers off her desk, careful not to disturb the order, and added all her pens and knick knacks to the pile. Laid out on the desk was now photos of each known Ripper victim, in order of death. 

It took up the whole surface.

Will had memorised these by know, he’d seen them so many times. But right now he was going to try and see them as another had. When Miriam had been to this crime scene, the man impaled and stuck with every implement in the room, she had found something that may have lead her to the Ripper. Will had spent the day immersed in his study of her, spending time quietly letting his mind settle into an approximation of who she might have been. He closed his eyes and began.

He walked around the body in the room. There was blood seeping down the one of the table legs to the floor. Off to the side Jack stood, cocky, judging the reaction of a junior agent who had not yet proven herself. The body was a horror show she could not run screaming from, and as she stood there, growing accustomed to it she didn’t want to. Everything she wanted in life, respect, power, was going to be tied into this dead man. Jack asked for her opinion. She looked at it, the percisnes of the wounds, the casual cruelty. She told Jack it was a man, a tall man, somehow othered, and she saw those traits in the damage to the body. She had seen a medical background, and a connection to the victim. The trouhy taking, this victim was not a man worthy of what he was given. So the Ripper was intelligent and angry, and this slab of meat on the table had become the focus of his anger.

Will drew back from the victim, but not Miriam. He looked at another victim, this time a man sitting across from himself on the bus. Tried to see him through Miriam eye’s. There was almost a playfulness in the victim here, the Ripper had brutalized him while he was still alive and this action had continued after his death. There was no connections between the victims, there never was. But this man must have angered him, drawn his contempt, just as the others had. The Ripper came in contact with so many people whom he felt needed to be broken.

Will came back to himself with a shudder, Miriam fading back into his mind like the afternoon sun into evening. He thought about the level of anatomical knowledge that was being utilized to kill. Her hunt for doctors was spot on, there was a comfort with taking the human body apart you wouldn’t find anywhere else.

He found himself thinking of Miriam again, not as she lived but in her afterlife as a tool to terrorize Jack. The Ripper hadn’t just killed her, he’d preserved her body and her voice. He’d saved both for years, years of hiding a body, years with a secret recording, waiting. Will added patient, long term planning to his list of traits. As well as an excellent study of human nature. Will wasn't anywhere nearly as skilled as the Ripper was when it came to understanding other people. 

Miriam’s last words to Jack was that they had been wrong, so wrong, but Will could feel in his bones that while one detail may have been off, over all she had been very right. He was going to have to make Jack understand tomorrow he needed to get back on this case.

***  
Late as Will was Hannibal had waited up, and was getting his dinner ready when Will finally arrived home. Will stood quietly in the doorway to the kitchen and watched Hannibal cook. The first time he’d been over for dinner, the first time Hannibal had let him into the kitchen, he’d thought Hannibal was trying to intimidate him. The man was so sure about every movement, and he’d waxed on and on about the ingredients. Will had come away knowing it was a very special meal he’d eaten and that Hannibal was skilled in ways he couldn’t understand. He’d also assumed, incorrectly, that when alone Hannibal would just make a damn sandwich like anyone else and eat over the sink. He’d been wrong.

If he was eating along Hannibal would still spend an hour in the kitchen and set the table. He’d still plate his food with as much care as he would for guests. Will had shown up unannounced often enough interrupting dinner to know this. Hannibal took such delight in the beauty of his food, Will would categorize it as one of his chief pleasures in life. The man didn’t just enjoy eating food, he treasured every aspect of it, he was detail oriented to the point of obsession. One of these day’s Will was certain he’d be dragged to some out of the way farm to meet Hannibal’s butcher. Will found himself try to imagine what it would be like to be Hannibal, to care so much about every little morsel of food that went on the plate. To look at a piece of meat and see so much potential. Hold up a piece of flesh and see it thinly seared, still blood red in the middle, the same tint as a light sauce drizzled over the plate, to be sliced thinly and run through the sauce. Each bite alternating with a light green salad to cleanse the plat, waiting for more. To see that potential in all the food, in what ever was around him. To see and know what it’s truly capable of being.

Through half closed eyes Will watched as Hannibal plated their dinner and looked up at Will expectantly. Will snapped back to himself and went over to help carry the plates into the dining room. 

As they sat down Hannibal asked “You looked so deep in thought, what were you thinking just now?”

Will stopped, fork in hand. “I was thinking about what an amazing cook you are.” He then took a bite, and gestured to the plate while he chewed. “This, lets see, entrecôte?”

“You are learning.” Hannibal looked pleased as he took a bite himself.

“It’s something I could never make. Never, I wouldn’t know how to shop for special cuts of meat, I wouldn’t even think to learn because I don’t know how to cook, and I wouldn’t even order it in a restaurant, it’s beyond my orbit of thought.”

“But you are enjoying eating it, correct?” Hannibal asked.

Will nodded, his mouth was full.

“You know better than most how unpleasant raw meat is. It smells, it glistens, and in very little time it rots. But once cooked it is transformed. It never fails to amaze how applying heat and flavors transforms such an ugly unpleasant thing into something very nearly divin. Though my actions I am able to change something and make it beautiful. I can think of no better reason to cook.” Hannibal looked proud at his speech.

Will looked down at his plate, half empty now. “You brought out the beauty in it.” And that was worth the time and effort Hannibal put into these meals, it was his act of creation. Will felt, not for the first time, extraordinary lucky to be so close to Hannibal. 

***  
Will was undressing when he heard Hannibal enter the bedroom. He smiled to himself, removed his boxers with his pants, and turned around to find Hannibal standing right behind him, not in the doorway where he’d last heard him. He opened his mouth in surprised and Hannibal swooped in, covering his mouth with his own and pressing up against him. Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal, greedy for every swipe of his tongue. His dick hardened, and he began a slow grind against Hannibals trouser covered thigh. Hannibal started to respond, pushing back, but then pulled away. “Not in this suit.” he said, but his hands were still holding Wills head, his lips already returning to Will’s. Another slow, delicious grind, and then Hannibal pulled away.

“Turn around.” Hannibal said, his voice deep. Will did, and was facing the wall. A hand between his shoulder blade, and he took another step towards it, then another. Hannibal grabbed his arms, rotating them until his forearms rested against the wall, cool on Will’s skin. “Stay.”

Will flexed his hands,flattening his palms against the wall as he listened to Hannibal, not bothering to be quiet now, moved away to the bureau and rummaged through the drawer. He breathed quicker, and when Hannibal returned he let out a little moan. Hannibal stood close, curving an arm around Will’s chest, a hand moving over him, massaging his body staring at his collar bone and slowly working it’s way down to his dick. Hannibal hand encircled it, squeezing. A second hand, in a latex glove, cupped his ass then began to tease his hole. Will spread his legs further. Both hands withdrew, then returned dripping with lube. The hand on his dick began to jerk him quickly, Will tried to thrust into it but then Hannibal inserted a finger into his ass and he went still, letting the finger trust in and out in rhythm with the jerk and Will gave himself up to the experience, he was best left in Hannibals hands. Soon there was two fingers and the rhythm grew stronger, but then at three Hannibal let go of Will’s dick. Will trust forward a little, but was impaled on Hannibals hand, instead he just gave a whimper. Hannibal kissed Will’s neck as he withdrew his fingers and said “Go lay on the bed.”

Will’s legs were already shaking as moved onto it, not even bothering to throw back a cover. He lay on his back, knees bent and wide open. Hannibal was taking off his suit in hurried motions, not even looking at Will offering himself up. When his suit was hung he did turn, still in boxers and undershirt, and looked Will over. He smiled. “Such a perfect picture.” he said and finished undressing with more haste. Will slowly stroked his dick as Hannibal put on the condom and joined Will in bed. Hannibal bracing himself over Will with one hand as he guided his dick in with the other, Will’s legs curling around Hannibals back to encourage him to go faster, deeper. Instead he went slow, as Will cursed between panted breaths. When Hannibal was in to the hilt he dropped his weight down against Will, feeling the man's frantic heartbeat, wrapped in Will’s arms and legs and began to kiss him. The he began to thrust, hard and erratic, Will’s dick between them leaking on them both. He didn’t last long, not in such a frantic coupling. Will felt those long trusts and waited for Hannibal to finish, then released his tight grip on Hannibal so the man move up to a kneeling position, still inside Will, dragging his body along. Sitting up straight Hannibal kelt, trusting lightly as he jerked Will off, he didn’t last much long either. They both stayed there, on the sweaty filthy bed, breathing deep, collapsed into each other.

Later, clean and getting ready to drift off, Will quietly told Hannibal “I’m going to meet with Jack tomorrow about continuing to profile for him.”

It was too dark to see Hannibals face. “You’ve only been back teaching a week, are you so eager to return to the field?” 

“No.” Will said. “But I feel my work there isn’t done yet. I need to face the job again, do a little more good, just to prove I can.”

Hannibal breathed in. “You must prove to yourself that what was done to you was something that won’t undo you.”

“Yes, and until I’ve proved it I won’t be comfortable leaving it all behind.” Will said. “And I know I need to walk away from it, at a certain point enough voices whispering kill in my head will break me. Not yet, but someday. I will walk away while I still can.”

“Of course, someone like you shouldn’t beat yourself bloody trying to solve all the evils of the world. You must protect yourself.”

Will shook his head. “It bothers me that what’s best for me might not be what’s best for the rest of the world.”

Hannibal covered Will chest with his hand. “The world doesn’t think it owes you anything, it turns with equal indifference at the falling of a sparrow and the fall of nations. You will no longer chase serial killers, it will turn on.”

Will felt the hair on his neck rise a bit, even as Hannibal softly traced patterns on to his chest, a comforting gesture he fell asleep to many nights. “It might not matter to the whole of humanity, but nothing does.” He stopped, trying to line up his next thought.

“That’s right.” Hannibal said calmly. “People are born, and die, and the world does not end. Be safe my Will, let yourself be sane. The world certainly can keep turning.”

Will laid silently in the warmth of Hannibal’s arms and tried to sus out why he felt so cold until the days exhaustion delivered him to slumber.

 

***

“You know what I think.” Jack looked across his desk at Will. “Technically I don’t even have to be talking to you right now. You worked under my supervision, if I want you gone you are gone.”

“I can’t go yet, not until this is finished.” Will said. “You brought me on with an eye towards the Ripper case. Well now my eye is on it too. It’s all I can see anymore. I don’t think, I don’t rest, I don’t blink without seeing his pile of bodies. I have Miriam so deep in my head that she’s echoing my thoughts.” Will looked Jack in the eyes. “And I want her there. She solved this once, she can do it again. I don’t think I’ve ever been closer to someone then her. If you try and make me stop now Jack, I won’t. I just won’t have the resources and and protection the FBI offers. I’ll just have what’s in my head. And that’s not going to be enough.” Will looked away.

“That’s what Miriam had too.” Jack said. “And it wasn’t enough to save her.”

“Now she has me. Jack, I can’t keep doing this, letting killers in my head. Even if I wasn’t kidnapped I would still have to stop. There’s limits to all things, and I can see mine from where I’m standing. But I have to climb one more mountain before I reach it. This is going to be my last case. After this I just want to teach, and go home, and rest my weary mind. But I can’t do that until this is over.”

***

Alana stood in the hallway outside Jacks office , leaning against the wall next to the guest chairs. She could hear the muffled raised voices as the two men argued. When her cell phone rang she was ready .

“Hello Jack.”

“Alana, I need you to come to my office and-” Jack was cut off mid sentence as Alana flung open the door and strode into the room. “-I’m going to guess you weren’t just passing by.”

“Nope.” Alana said as she took a seat next to Will. “I was waiting for you to call.”

“So I suppose you know what I’m going to say.” Jack looked tired.

“Yes. And my response it that from any perspective other than personal we need to keep Will as an active agent until either we catch the Ripper or Will decides it’s time for him to leave. If he was a normal active agent that’s what choice we’d give him, treating him any different shows that you don’t trust your own past decisions. From my personal viewpoint I want Will to move with his dogs to the middle of Canada and live in a small log cabin with Hannibal bringing him food on the weekends.” Will smiled at that. Alana continued, “But I know I can’t let what I want emotionally cloud my judgement here. Will has gone through therapy, been cleared, and wants to be back out there. It’s been enough time Jack. Will is ready to reassume his work as a consultant. And he’s not asking you to bring him to crime scenes, or have him work in the field. He want’s to consult on just one case, and unless there’s a fresh body it’s all mental work for now.”

“You’re both right.” Jack said. “But I still don’t like it. Will, you’re back on duty. I expect any work you do outside your head to be completely transparent.”

“I’ll be like glass.” Will promised. Alana reached out a hand, and after only a moments hesitation touched Will’s forearm. He looked at her, but didn’t flinch away. 

“I will always be looking out for you.” she said.

“I know.” Will said, and in a moment of daring, put his hand on hers. “Thank you.”

***

Will found himself in an empty room. All the Ripper victims were laid out, neatly on their tables. He walked up to a victim and as he stepped closer the room faded, and the victim was now as he had been found, gaily in twenty pieces scattered among his tailor’s dummies. Will took a deep breath and now saw him alive, standing in his shop, turning in surprise as the Ripper, as Will, walked in. Will grabbed him by the throat, he was strong, very strong, he could lift the smaller man without issue. He slammed his head down against the table, it was so easy, people never really understood their strength, but he did, he’d been here before and knew what he was capable of. Breath knocked out of him the man opened his mouth to gasp, and he shoved, what was it?

Will came out of his trance long enough to read the report he’d left on his desk, it was a tie, a tie from the shop, they didn’t know if it had been sold or taken from the inventory. He closed his eyes again.

He shoved the tie down the man’s throat. Not in just in his mouth, he reached down with two fingers and shoved it deep enough to limit airflow. But that didn’t matter for long, as the man struggled to breath he broke both his hands, hands that were incapable of making the goods he claimed to create, against the table’s edge. His victim kept trying to scream, but couldn’t as he gagged on the tie. He then reached just a little way’s to a rack of tools, pulled down the tailor’s scissors, and began to cut.

When he was done, and it took sometime, but there was no one waiting for this odious little man that night, and this shop was dark with the alarms set, no one would come to visit, he surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. While the majority of the man was one with his workshop a few bits were carefully wrapped up to go home with him. The murder was complete. Will breathed deep, memorize the room, then went and sat on an unbloodied stool in the corner to wait. 

Miriam walked into the room. She looked stern and businesslike, sensible suit and flat shoes, hair in a ponytail. She was putting on gloves as she entered, and gave Will a brief nod as she investigated the crime scene.

“You spent a great deal of time planning this.” She said conversationally as she poked around. “It’s not just that you knew when he’d be here, when you could get away with it, but you knew every tool you’d have at your disposal. You brought no weapons, you didn’t need to. Around you anything can be deadly.” She tapped the mans head, left under a poorly made top hat. “What did this man do to piss you off so much? This isn’t a murder of opportunity, you weren’t walking down the street and realized you could kill him. But the worst enemy we could find for him was some angry reviews.”

Will watched her work, so different from how he approached the scene. She continued to ignore him, talking more to herself. “You’re an enemy he didn’t know he had. That’s the worst kind. So who hates people this much? Who is capable of such anger? And, perhaps more importantly for our purpose here, what sort of person decides that he can right the wrongs to him in such a horrible way.” 

She stopped then, standing still in the middle of the room, not moving. Will stood up and walked to her, but she had faded by the time he got there. Alone in the room with the body he sighed, and opened his eyes.

Back in the classroom he was shaking. Blindly he reached out and picked up another case file, a different victim. He closed his eyes and murdered the woman again, and waited for Miriam.

She was dressed a little differently this time. The victim was crushed under a tree. It was muddy, Miriam had hiking boots and jeans. She didn’t even glance at Will, addressing all her questions to the body and picking up where she had left off.

“He doesn’t see people as people. Or maybe he does, but he doesn’t think people matter.” She frowned, poking at the hole where the stomach had been removed. “HIs anatomical work shows such a familiarity with us mortals, yet he takes us apart like this. I wonder if he studied medicine to try and understand people.” She faded again.

Will frantically recreated another murder, this time from memory. When Miriam strood in this time her feet squished in the blood soaked carpet. “What he, and it must be a he, is creating is partly here, with this,” She waved at the man bleed like a pig on the bed. “But there’s another work of art, the organ removal is key. He’s creating something with it.” She poked at the sliced open skull, brain not in attendance. “This is only part of the crime scene. There’s another where the organs are.”

She was already fading, and Will cut a man in half. He was sitting in the back of the bus with his head down as Miriam's voice filtered back to him. “He’s meticulous. He leaves disaster and chaos at his crime scene, but it’s chaos of his own design. The organs, the bit of the people he takes with him, it’s something else he can control, like he controls their death. One last little piece he’s going to destroy, perhaps later when he has time to really enjoy it. You could say the whole purpose of these murders is for the heart, the lungs, the ribs. What could a murderer be doing to further savor these slices of people?”

Will stood up and walked to Miriam. She didn’t fade this time. He said quietly “What did you get wrong when you found him?”

“I underestimated him.” Miriam said. “I didn’t think that just showing I was looking in the right direction could get me killed. I was also wrong about his willingness to be impulsive.”

“Are you only saying that because it’s what I think?” Will said. “Do you see what I see?” He gestured at the bodies that surrounded them now, all of those he had killed again to watch her work. 

“Yes.” She said. “I see someone who has control over life and death, and more comfortable with death who understands how a body works and how to take it apart. More then anything else I see someone who loves, truly loves, his work. To him all this is beautiful, you’re looking for a man who loves beautiful things.” She gave Will a long look, them faded

Will opened his eyes and looked at the empty classroom. The light was dim, his desk lamp facing away to the floor. He felt sick. He felt like he still had a knife in his hands. He wanted to go to Hannibal, feel a warm living human hold him and tell him he wasn’t a monster. He wanted to put his hands on Hannibal and not break him into pieces because he knew he could. He didn’t trust himself to go there, not tonight. He stood up on shaky legs, and turned off the lamp. The room was illuminated only by the soft green exit signs. He waited for his eyes to adjust and then left the room.

***

“Do you remember when you asked who I’d rather have in my head?” Will asked Dr. Du Maurier. She nodded. “Well, I let someone in.”

For some reason WIll had thought she’d look happy at this revelation, but her facial expression did not change. Staring calmly at him she asked “What brought about this?”

Will started to feel nervous, his words came out faster than he intended. “There’s a case, a serial killer, a murderer who shows a sadistic side that we haven’t been able to trace. Hunting him, it’s like trying to catch a storm. Something insubstantial, yet it destroys everything it touches. No one at the FBI has been able to get a read on him, Jack Crawford wasn’t able to get a read on him. But a few years ago a junior agent, a woman named Miriam, was able to get close. I wanted to get that close. So I decided instead of trying to understand the murderer I’d try to understand her. And it’s working, I bring her into the murders with me and try to see them through her eyes.”

“Would you say she's a good person?" Dr. Du Maurier asked.

"Compared to the people I share mental space with most days? She's a saint. Working to catch serial killers, highly driven, smarter than most. When I try to see crimes through her eyes I see the broader view, I can look at the murder itself, but she see's more of what lead the killer there."

"Are you in any way interacting with this simulacrum beyond your murderers?" Dr. Du Maurier asked.

"No." Will said, a bit surprised. "Why would I need to?"

"It sounds like she has a perspective that you think you lack." Dr. Du Maurier stood up and walked to the side table where she kept a decanter of water. Pouring herself a glass she continued, "Many people find it helpful to try on opposing viewpoints to help them solve problems, or understand things from another point of view." Unasked she poured a second glass of water. "If you are finding this additional perspective useful you might want to apply it to other areas of your life." She passed him a glass on her way back to her seat, her fingers cold against his skin. "Try and see how your life looks from this other perspective."

Will took a sip, quietly appreciating how she always kept water in the room for him during their sessions. "What do you think she'd see?"

"She's not my recreation, I couldn't say." Dr. Du Maurier said."What's important is what you think she'd see."

Will nodded politely, and knew he'd never do it. He wanted to keep Miriam on the crime scenes, the less intersection with his real life the better.

***

“Will, can I ask you something personal?” Abigail asked.

Will turned around, he had walked a bit ahead of Abigail as she lagged behind with the dogs. The sun had set behind the trees and they were walking now in the twilight back towards Will’s home. It had been a quiet peaceful walk, with Abigail mostly running after his more energetic dogs while he listened to the birds and watched her simply be happy. The country lane was dirt, but hard packed so there was no worry about getting muddy, and any car would have been heard a mile away, enough time to round up his pack. It was the sort of peaceful moment Will found sneaking up on him from time to time, unexpected and to be treasured.

“You can ask me anything.” Will answered.

“Are you scared of the skin thief coming back?” she asked nervously. 

“Yes, well, not exactly. It’s more knowing that such evil is out there and can touch me with it’s icy fingers that has me scared.” Will answered simply, reaching down to feel Winston’s fur between his fingers. “I don’t like being afraid. I’m trying to come to terms with the knowledge that I always will be though. Knowing that he’s still out there, likely waiting to find another victim keeps me up some nights.”

“You look at people and know that they all could be monsters.” Abigail said. She quietly grabbed one of the smaller dogs and held it to her chest. “You see the potential for madness everywhere.”

“The world is a terrifying place.” Will agreed, and then couldn’t think of anything else to say. They walked in silence the rest of the way to the house. It was a shared silence though, and the world was quiet. And Hannibal was waiting at the house for them both. Of course he wasn’t staying, he had to take Abigail home, but Will felt a little safer anyway.

***  
Once the car was out of Will’s sight Hannibal glanced at Abigail. “Did you ask him?”

“Yes.” she said. “He’s afraid, but more for potential future victims then himself.”

Hannibal wasn’t overly surprised, that man had an altruistic streak that was really going to get him killed one of these days. “Well, that’s helpful to know.” He risked a glance away from the road and to look at Abigail's face, but her expression was too hard to read in the dark. “Thank you for helping me, Will is too considerate to burden me with his thoughts sometimes, but he couldn’t deny you any part of himself.” He smiled, and reached out to pat her leg. “You did a good thing, now I can help Will heal.”

“You’re welcome Hannibal.” Abigail said, and he could hear a note of pride in her voice. Excellent. 

***  
Will was back in the room with Miriam, san’s her left arm. He sat on the morgue table, she lied on it covered with a sheet. Will felt the chill of the empty space, the room was cavernous with all it’s victims missing.

“Who do you need me to see?” Miriam asked from the table.

“Your killer.” Will answered, and the parade began. Every man on his list slowly began to walk by, Will staring intently, Miriam lying behind him, looking up at the ceiling. As the doctors, nurses, health care professions slowly marched past she whispered “No, no, couldn’t be, we have no reason to suspect, we don’t know about that one, no, no, …” until Will had his best suspects cordoned off. He was about to slide off the table when he thought back to that first time he’d seen Hannibal’s name on the list. Then Hannibal was standing before them; eye’s politely averted to the floor. Well, he hadn’t been planning on introducing the two of them just yet. But this was his final test, he might as well put her to it now. Gently he touched her shoulder. “One more Miriam, take a look at him.”

Miriam sat up. She swung her legs over the table and neatly jumped down, her sheet wound around her like a dress. Confused Will followed. She walked up to Hannibal, stared him in the eyes. Hannibal look back at her, politely but not with any interest. “There’s a second crime scene, where the trophies are.” she said. “Where the bits of the bodies, the brutalized bodies, are taken. He transforms his victims so perfectly into something of his liking, why wouldn’t he continue with the rest of them.” She turned away from Hannibal, facing only Will. “Why wouldn’t he cook them?”

Suddenly Hannibal grabbed Miriam from behind, lifting her up as he choked her. She gasped, struggling, flailing her hands behind her head as she tried to stop him. Will was helpless, rooted to his spot. Miriam’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to breath, but she was also sitting next to Will on the morgue table, watching her murder with as much detachment as was on Hannibal’s face as he choked the life out a young women.

“He loves not the killing, although it’s no hardship, but what he creates afterwards. He loves the tableau he makes in the world, he loves watching all of us scurry in his wake trying to figure out what has passed. Most of all it’s the power he craves, and needs.” She was unconscious on the floor now, Hannibal lowered her down with near reverence.

“Has everything Hannibals done over the last year been to keep tabs on the investigation, or flirting with the edge?” Will asked. Part of him was screaming, but he couldn’t listen to that now.

“He loves power.” Miriam echoed. “Controlling those hunting him would be a perfect expression of that.”

Something in Will broke. “He loves me!” he screamed.

Miriam looked unimpressed. “Cat’s love mice.” she replied. 

Will turned back to look at Hannibal, or rather two Hannibals, one on each side of the room. One was cooking, lavishing all the attention and care onto a simple meal. The second was pulling the lungs out of a young women, a rack of antlers behind her. All the attention, the focus, was being lavished onto the victim, both as she died and as he lungs were seared.

Will’s eyes flew open and he sat up, something loud and terrifying was around him and he could hear it but-

He was sitting on his bed, his dogs around barking. They sounded terrified. Only as Will stopped did he realize he was screaming.

***  
“Okay, what couldn’t you tell me over the phone?” Beverly looked at Will, hunched on her couch, barely able to look at her. He had called about an hour ago, to ask if he could come over, and refused to say why. She had spent the time waiting for him going over scenarios in her head, trauma? Fight with Hannibal? Was he in trouble? 

“I figured something out that can destroy me.” Will finally said. “And I need to know if it’s true before I let it.”

“Okay.” Beverly said. “Can you tell me what it is, or how I can help you?”

“No to the first, yes to the second.” Will looked miserable. “There a simple, simple, way to test if my grasp on reality is slipping.” From a pocket in his coat he pulled out a plastic bag. “I know this is contaminated, but I only need you to tell me one thing about it.” He passed her the bag. Beverly looked at it, a little bit of bone. “I need you to tell me what kind of animal this is from.”

Beverly stilled. “Will, why? Where did you get this.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. Can you test this tomorrow without telling anyone?”

“Maybe.” She said, turning it over in her hands. It wasn’t much, about three inches long, and inch thick and had been cut at both ends. It was also well gnawed by some sort of animal. If she had to guess she would have said it was a cow bone, discarded after a meal. “There bone structures that you find in animals varies, but the reticular canals are usually a good hint as to species. From size alone I’m guessing cow though. It won’t take me long with a scope. If I get in early there won’t be anyone to ask me what I’m doing.” She looked up at Will, debating if she could ask more questions. He was a mess. “When I figure it out, I’ll call you, and you’ll explain all of this?”

Will nodded. “Call me at the office line, I left my phone at home.” 

“Okay.” Beverly said. She was suddenly exhausted, and didn’t want to think about any more mysteries. “It is now,” she glanced at the microwave, “one in the morning. I’m going to go get six more hours of sleep. Do you want to stay on the couch?”

Will looked around, as if he just realized where he was. “It might be best if I did.”

“Okay. Blanket in the box in the corner, bathroom down the hall, if you wake me up before seven for anything less than an emergency I’ll throw something heavy at your head.” That got a quirk out of the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight Will.”

***

When Beverly entered his classroom he was sitting alone at the desk, waiting for her,facing the door. She had called and said she needed to talk to him. She hadn’t said she was bringing Jack, but there he was walking behind her, hands free. He was staring at WIll like he was someone he didn’t know. Will spoke first. “So it is human?”

“Yes.” Beverly said. “The vascular system indicated it’s from an adult human, it’s too fragmented to tell if it’s a from male or female, and we might not be able to get a clean DNA sample.”

“And being handed a piece of human from a friend, that was enough to notify Jack?” Will gestured in the man's direction.

“Beverly didn’t know what to think, but getting handed a little bit of a person meant I should be involved.”Jack sounded friendly, calm. “Will, where did this come from?”

“I took it from one of my dogs” Will said. “The dog was given it that evening, Hannibal had come over with Abigail and made us dinner. He slipped the dogs some of the leftovers.” Will turned to Beverly. “Last night, thank you for letting me stay at your house.” He nervously ran a hand through his hair, looking down the desk. “Hannibal has keys to mine.”

The silence filled the room. Jack then spoke, calmly, still friendly. “So you’re saying the bone came from Dr. Lecter?”

Will nodded. “From dinner. He said it was a beef roast, he’d prepared the cut at home and seasoned it , then finished it in my kitchen. The meat was so tender it flaked off the bone.”

Before Will had wrestled the bone away from the dogs he’d been sick three times. 

“So Hannibal’s a cannibal?” Beverly said. Unlike Jack WIll could hear a slight tremor of hysteria in her voice.

“If you’ve ever eaten at his house you are too.” Will said. His stomach was empty, there was nothing left to purge. 

“WIll, these are very serious accusations you’re making. “ Jack said. His friendly, keep the perp calm voice was gone.

“I know, and I know you wouldn’t have entertained them if I didn’t have something to give you.“ Will motioned at the bone. “But right now you have a choice, believe me or consider me a potential killer. I won’t ask you to believe me in the face of evidence Jack, but I’m hoping you have enough respect for my mind to consider looking into what I say. Right now I believe Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper. I believe he’s killed, and eaten the organs he’s taken as trophies. I believe he’s gotten close to the FBI, to this department, and to me as part of his game, maybe he’s gotten bored just killing and getting away with it. Being so close to those hunting him might be adding a thrill to his life. But once he get used to it, once he’s bored, we’re all going to be that much closer to his table.”

Beverly spoke first. “Say we believe you. How are we going to prove it?”

Relief flooded Will’s body. He hadn’t been certain he was going to get out of this room without handcuffs. “We need to search his home. I have keys, and I know when he’ll be out of the house for an hour, he’ll be seeing his psychiatrist today at noon.”

“You’re not going.” Jack said firmly. “You are staying here, preferably in this building, while Beverly and I go. Give me the keys.” He held out a hand, and WIll passed him the key he’d already removed from his ring. “We will call you if we need additional information. Is there anywhere in particular you suggest we look?”

“I’d start in the kitchen.” Will said.

***  
“So.” Beverly said as they parked a block away from Hannibal’s house. “This is kinda weird.”

Jack snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Does Hannibal ping you as a killer? Because I’ve sat with a lot of psychopaths, and Hannibal, I just don’t see him that way.” They were walking to the house now, Beverly had never been but Jack had. She followed him, wondering which of these impressive homes they were going to enter.

“After a while on this job I find myself evaluating everyone I meet for their murder potential.” Jack stopped in front of a gorgeous three story mansion and went up the stairs. “Hannibal has never set off any alarm bells in my head.” He knocked once, then opened the door briskly. Beverly followed Jack inside, to the richly yet tastefully decorated entryway. The spiral staircase beckoned to her, Beverley wanted to flounce down it in the hoop skirt and declare she had the vapors.

“Kitchen’s this way.” Jack said and went off to the side. “I know this because I’ve been over for dinner. I’ve brought my wife. Hannibal has cooked for us. He has let me into his home, been nothing but kind and open to me, and has done everything correct to be the perfect partner to someone I care deeply about.”

Beverly looked around the kitchen, a kitchen any chef would kill for. “So why are we here then?” She opened the fridge door, noticing some vacumced sacks of meat. Weird, but not proof of being a killer.

“Because I trust that Will wouldn’t send us here unless he believes we’ll find something.” Jack was pulling open drawers. Beverly grabbed a vacuum pack from the back of the fridge, hoping it wouldn’t be missed. “And if we don’t, that will be proof in and of itself.”

Beverly glanced around. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything here Jack. Will spends time in this room, so do you. If I was a genius cannibalistic killer I wouldn’t have a foot lying around in the trash can. What do you think, up or down?”

Jack closed the cabinet door. “Down.”

Beverly nodded. “Right, I’m going to go alone then.”

“No you're not.” Jack said.

“Jack, if Hannibal found you in his kitchen he would be assume that you here for some WIll related issue, which technically you are, and make you a sandwich. He finds me, we have a problem. You hang out here, I’ll call and tell you if I find anything murdery.” she said firmly while opening doors until one was locked. It wasn’t hard to unlock, and a moment later she was heading down a dark staircase.  
***

It felt awkward to be leaning against the counter in Hannibal’s spotless kitchen. It felt awkward and wrong and Jack wanted very much to leave. His brain kept trying to understand that bone Will had presented them, but everytime he tried to focus on it his thoughts slipped away and pooled with what he knew, that was Hannibal a kind good man. HIs thoughts then ran to what must be wrong with Will, that he would suspect Hannibal, and that he would have a bone to prove his suspicion. Where his thoughts slipped away from Hannibal like water off a ducks back they stuck to Will. Jack took a deep breath and cleared his mind.

His phone rang. “You find anything?” he asked.

“Jack.” Beverly sounded sick.

“I’m coming.” he said instantly, starting for the door.

“Don’t.” she said quietly. “Don’t come down here, just run right now and find that sick son of a bitch, Jack Will is right and we need to get out of here and-”

Jack had run down the stairs and was now facing Beverly, who in spinning to face him had turned away from the room. He was facing it. He was looking at the clean neat surfaces, stainless steel and gleaming. He was looking at the plastic body suits hanging on a clothing rack, the chains against the wall, the knives. The grow lights focused on the body on the table, the bamboo growing up though it. He didn’t recognize the man, but then it would be hard to recognize anybody with a plant growing out of his eyes, mouth and limbs.

Jack looked at Beverly horrified. Her eyes were open, staring at him. “I took a some photo’s I emailed them to Zeller and Price with where we are. I told them to go to Will for an explanation. Jack we need to nail him. Let’s get out of here now and make a plan.”

***

Zeller’s hands were shaking, he clasps them together and sat forward in the chair. Price had folded his arms around himself and was pacing back and forth in their small conference room. Will sat at the table, laptop open to the bamboo man in the photo.

Zeller jumped, and pulled out his phone. “Bev says they are out, cleared any signs that they were there, they’ll be back inside the hour.” He looked over at Will. “You think he’ll know they were poking around?”

Will shook his head. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore.” He kept staring at the photo. “It’s so odd to see a victim like this, it’s like a half formed sculpture, something emerging from the stone.” He pointed to the bamboo growing up through the mans hands. “Look at how much taller these shoots are, they had less flesh to press through and grew faster. I’m almost certain that when this victim was to be found he’d of trimmed them to the same height, to near it, so it would be more aesthetically pleasing.” He paused a moment, then added. “I think we had a stir fry a few months ago. There was soft, tender, bamboo shoots in it.”

Zeller reached over and closed the computer. “We need to not focus on this right now.”

Price suddenly unfolded himself and joined them. “No, we do need to.” He opened up the computer and looked at the bamboo. “This body has been preserved somehow, I can tell that from just looking at it, too shiny. Bamboo is technically a grass, and it grows, well, like a grass. Very quickly.” He looked closely at the photo. “The bamboo coming up through this mans head? It’s about three feet tall, now bamboo growth speed varies by variety, but I’m going to ballpark this as at least a month old, not much more. Will, remember where you were about a month ago?”

Will nodded. “Either locked in a room or in a hospital.”

“I’d call that a decent alibi.” Price said. “We’ll know more once someone brings us in the body, but as of right now I’m confident you did kill this man, plant bamboo in him, and set this up in Hannibal’s basement.”

Zeller stared at Price. “I am also sure of that. I was sure of that before we saw the photo!”

“Some of us like to have concrete proof.” Price sniffed.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want concrete proof, just that I don’t look at Will and see a murdering bastard!” Zeller said, waving his arm at Will.

“But you don’t see that in Hannibal either, do you?” Will asked. He closed the laptop. “I certainly don’t. Didn’t.”

The room grew quiet, and stayed that way.

***  
Alana was driving back from her most recent interview with a psychopath, ignoring the vibration of her phone. It was just a texts, those could wait until she stopped. She could here a near constant buzzing faintly from her purse, there was going to be at least ten to read when she finally took a look.

Her phone range, and that she couldn’t ignore. Risking a ticket she glanced at the screen as she picked up. “Bev, what’s going on?”

“Hey, you have Hannibal’s personal cell number, right?” Bev sounded stressed. “Will’s having a panic attack. I’m trying to keep him calm, but Hannibal might be a better candidate. I can’t find his phone. It’s probably in the classroom he just locked himself in.”

“Oh God, what happened? Never mind, Hannibal’s number is-” she looked around and realized there was no way should could look up the number without pulling over. “Bev, I’m going to call him for you. What does he need to know?”

“That he should get over here now, just come straight to Will’s classroom. We’re outside trying to talk to him. Thanks Alana.”

“Of course.”  
***  
Beverly hung up the phone. “Sorry to use you as bait Will.”

Will waved the comment off. “It means he’ll show up. He likes playing the part of devoted boyfriend.” 

Beverly could hear the anger and hurt in Wills voice, but didn’t know how to address that right now Her phone buzzed, she glanced down. “Jack’s got the warrant, he’s heading back over to Lector’s.” 

“It’s moving so fast.” Will said quietly. “Yesterday at this time I was eating lunch with Hannibal, talking about Abigails visit.”

“Dead bodies have that effect on law enforcement. “ Beverly said. They had to stay focused. “Will, I’m pretty damn good at poker. Are you sure you don’t want me meeting Lector? It’s going to look weird if there’s no one out here.”

Will looked around his empty classroom. “We don’t have a better sniper on hand then you. This man has manipulated everyone around himself without remorse, read every situation, worked everything to his advantage. I don’t want him within arms reach of anyone. When he realizes what’s going on he’s going to try to kill me, I’m certain. I trust you to save my life.”

Beverly looked up the highest seats. She’d placed her sniper rifle, so overpowered for this space, behind the last row. She’d have a clear shot anywhere around Will.

Her phone buzzed again. “It’s Alana. She says Hannibal is about five minutes away, she’s half an hour out.”

“Can you ask her to get Abigail for me?” Will asked suddenly.

“Why?” 

“If this goes wrong Hannibal might go after her. Tell her to get Abigail and take her somewhere, a hotel, or somewhere he won’t know to look for them.”

Beverly was stunned. “Will, he saved Abigail, he loves Abigail, and you really think he’s capable of-”

“One of the Ripper victims was peeled, like an orange, and draped around a tree. There isn’t a thing on this earth he isn’t capable of.”

Beverly didn’t really have a thing to say to that. She turned and started up to her perch, texting Alana as she walked.

***  
Hannibal flashed his visitor's badge to the guard at the entrance as he quickly strood past towards Will’s room. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, and that worried him. He’d been able to predict most, but not all, of Will’s behaviors. People always broke in interesting ways, perhaps something had set him off. No matter, he’d be able to coax Will out.

His phone beeped. Text, unknown, but the message said Beverly and to call. He stopped and did as instructed. She picked up immediately. “Hello, has there been a change?”

“Sort of.” She sounded scared and frustrated. “I’m not certain what's going on. Will asked us to clear out, but said he would talk to you. We’re in Alana’s office, if you need help, but are you comfortable going in alone?”

“Of course Mrs. Katz, in fact it may help Will if he see’s me alone, he’ll feel less threatened.” He started walking again, he wasn’t far from the classroom now. “I’ll let you know when we leave.”

“Thank you Dr. Lecter, and good luck.” She hung up the phone. Hannibal pocketed his again as he reached the door, and rapped smartly. “Will?” There was no answer. Well, that was hardly a surprise. He tried the doorknob, and it turned under his hand. Slowly, quietly, he pushed into the room.

He could only see Will’s left leg sticking out from behind the desk, the man was sitting on the floor. “Hello Will.” he said, walking towards him. He stopped halfway there, no point in startling the man. “I received a call from your friends, they are very worried about you.” He pitched his voice softer, as gentle as he could. “You don’t have to stay here, you can come home with me. You’ll be safe there.”

Will let out an ugly, barking laugh. “Dr. Lector, I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe again.”

Hannibal froze. There was four exits, the closet was behind him. If Will wanted to attack him that would leave him very, very vulnerable.

“Knowing for the rest of my life that some of my happiest moments, the safest I felt, was standing next to someone who could have killed me at any second is going to be something I will be fighting every minute.” Will stood up now, facing him. He looked angry, but was controlling it well. “I wonder what tomorrow will be like. And the next day, and the next. How long will it be before you aren’t whispering to me from my shadow?”

Hannibal took a step towards Will. “If you don’t wish to find out I can assist.” he said it quietly, no threat, just the offer.

“Stop moving Lector.” Her voice was firm, and Hannibal twisted slightly. Beverly Katz, behind him, with a very large gun. She had an excellent shot from up there, no doubt she’d find it simple to kill him before he moved a few feet. “This room is surrounded by agents. Give yourself up.”

There was still a rather obvious way out of this. Hannibal looked to Will, who now also had a gun in his hand. Maybe not so obvious.

“You asked me how killing felt, once. I told you it made me feel powerful.” Will’s voice was soft. “Right now I do not feel powerful. But I would like to again.” Will took a step towards Hannibal, slow, softly, Hannibal couldn’t even hear his footsteps. “Shall I do this the easy way?” 

Hannibal froze. He remembered when Will first kissed him, how he was shocked and decided to throw all his plans away to make a new one, to bring Will into himself with a different method. He had been so surprised by Will. He really shouldn’t have been so surprised by him again. This was a man who hated part of himself so deeply yet didn’t look away. Will was strong, and Hannibal had no doubt that he wanted him dead. He was still coming towards him.

“Get on your knees.” Will said. His voice didn’t sound like his Will, the person who asked for seconds at dinner and moaned in his bed. But he didn’t sound angry either. He sounded perfectly in control.

Hannibal hit the ground.

“Hands on the back of your head.” It was blank, Hannibal decided. Will sounded blank. Like a ghost speaking through a medium.

Hannibal could feel the knife in his coat shifting as he lifted his arms and laced his fingers. He couldn’t reach it now.

“Okay Bev.” 

Will stared into Hannibals eyes as Beverly yelled, and people came into the room. Behind him Hannibal could hear doors opening, and then he was being roughly cuffed and pushed to the ground. When he lifted his head a bit again Will was still staring at him, gun trained. Hannibal kept staring at him, even as they hauled him now bound to his feet and took him from the room.

***  
Beverly was talking to him. Beverly was talking to him, he needed to hear what she had to say. Will pulled himself together and looked at her. Her face was panicked, but softened as he made eye contact.

“Will, stay here. They have him, he’s shackled in a cell. You’re safe. You can put the gun down.”

He looked down at his hands, shocked to see he was still holding the gun, trained on the ground where Hannibal had knelt. His hand hurt from holding the grip so tight. As he became aware of the pain in his hand the rest of the room swam into focus. There was Bev at his side, hand on his arm. There was ten agents at the door, looking horrified. There was the empty space where Hannibal had stared up at him from.

Will let go of the gun, Beverly caught it before it hit the ground. She turned to pass it off, and then took Will by the arm and led him firmly out of the classroom, to Jack's office. She sat him down in one of the chairs, and then took the other. They sat in silence until Beverly said, quietly, “It worked. You with the gun, it worked.”

Will nodded. “He wanted me to become a killer, I was betting that any movement on my part to that inclination would keep him calm.”

Bev looked at him. “Do you think you are a killer?”

Will rotated his head up until he was staring at the boring, plain ceiling. “I think I could be, with a little work. Given the right circumstances we all could.”

“But your circumstances are a little closer to the surface.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. And I think given time Hannibal was going to bring them out. He helped me become so much comfortable with the death around me, making me feel safe in my own skin.” Will kept staring up. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Feel safe?” Beverly asked.

“The act of observing a behavior can change it.” Will said. “If I’m aware of my own darkness I can better turn towards the light. By the same token Hannibal was aware of his own darkness, and he let himself fall into it. I’ll just have to keep choosing which way to turn.”

Beside him Beverley stood up. “Will, when you close your eyes and see a perfect moment, where are you?”

Will closed his eyes. He was fishing in a river, water cold around his legs. He was tying a fly to the hook, and he knew there was fish in the water. He opened his eyes, and saw Beverly's worried face. “Fishing.”

She cracked a grin. “You’d be a horrible serial killer.”

Will wasn’t sure he agreed, but he nodded anyway. They waited together for Jack to return.

***  
The cell was, as expected, horrible. The concrete walls seemed to absorb the heat right out of his body when he rested his back against the wall. The mattress was thin, barely worthy of the name. It was little more than a thick pad. The blanket had been made of rough wool, too difficult to rip up into a rope to hang oneself. Not that there was anything to hang himself from, the ceiling was a smooth surface. 

Hannibal amused himself by thinking of everywhere worse he had spent the night. He did not think of better times, as recent as last week when he was in his bed, warm from the fire across the room, with a hot body next to him. It was the heat he missed. He was so cold here. He could ignore it of course, and he would. There would be no shiver, no rubbing of his arms. He rested with his back against the wall, still as stone. 

Will’s footsteps were coming down the hall. He didn’t move a muscle, not even when they stopped outside his cell. He waited for Will to crack first.

“You visited me, when I was being held by Friedman, didn’t you?” Will sounded curious.

“Yes.” Hannibal said, opening his eyes and turning toward Will. The man looked tired. “I needed to be certain you were there before alerting Jack and the others.”

Will pulled a chair up, but far enough that Hannibal couldn’t grab him through the bars. “That visit didn’t fit the pattern, but by the time I was in any place to look back and realize looking back was the last thing on my mind.”

Hannibal nodded, he’d assumed that. “Are you wondering why I left you there?”

Will gave him a hard look. “You knew I wasn’t in any permanent danger, you didn’t see any reason to rush my release and risk exposing yourself.”

Hannibal gave a small smile. “Very good.”

Will sighed, all the exhaustion in his face magnifying as he slumped in the hard plastic chair. “Where’s Barry Friedman? Or rather, where is what’s left of him. The meat in your various freezers belongs to at least twelve people, but we haven’t found a scrap of him.”

Hannibal looked away from Will. “I was saving him. For you.” There was nothing interesting to stare at on the opposite wall, but he focused his attention on it anyway.

“That’s an interesting gift.” Will’s voice floated into his ears, he didn’t need to look to see the of anger on his face.

“Isn’t peace of mind a thoughtful gift? If you were haunted that this mad man was out there, ready to strike again, knowing he was dead would have been a blessing. It was truly a selfless gift, as it would have arrived unsigned.”

“But someday,” Will said, and he could almost see the words swirling around him in this cell, light as falling leaves as winter came with its cold, “someday you hoped I would see you as you are. A day I could accept such a gift from you.”

Hannibal looked in Will’s eyes again. “I nurtured the hope that one day we would see each other for what we both are.”

“What do you see me as now?” Will asked quietly.

“Someone who will never let himself be complete.” And he wouldn’t be, without guidance Will would slowly lose the edge he had been delicately horning over the last few months. Soon Will would be just another dull blade, nothing special. Such a waste.

Will stood up. “Some would argue that a incomplete monster is the better then one whole.” 

He walked out of the cell block. Hannibal listened to the footsteps echo, and then the silence filled the space.

***  
Abigail was waiting for him in the visitor’s room, she jumped up when we walk in. “How did he look?”

“Like Hannibal.” Will said wearily. “He could have been sitting in one of those chairs by the fire, he looked so comfortable. Sure you don’t want to see him?”

Abigail shook her head. “No. I just wanted to see what this place was like.” She gestured to the security camera she’d been watching. “I feel safer now.”

“Good.” Will said. “It helps that everyone here is interested in him. He’s a killer and manipulator like no one here has seen before, the researchers here don’t want to lose such an fascinating toy.”

The two of them walked outside to Will’s car. The air was crisp and sharp, the sun reflecting off the snow with dazzling whiteness.

“Do you think that we’re safe?” Abigail asked.

“From Hannibal? Yes. From the everyting else terrible in the world? We can’t be.” He opened the car door to let her climb in. “But I do think that we’ve come through a storm, and we survived. And we’re stronger people for it.” He smiled at her putting on her seat belt. “Let’s go.”

The end.


End file.
